#and i especially with he took you fifty years ago. fifty? i don't know the exact time

[risingsunyoul]

b

[miley1442111]

the problem with arguing

a/n: Hi, this is my first story, any constructive criticism is welcomed. This had not been properly edited nor read through because icba lmao :) also I wrote it for a fem!reader but I don't think there's much mention other than Jack calling reader 'mom' so... yeah :)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, platonic BAUteam x reader, motherly(If that's a word?)reader x teen!jack hotchner

summary: aaron and you are in a fight, but what happens when a meeting with a witness goes south?

warnings: criminal minds levels of violence, angst, fluff, couple fighting, reader in distress, reader getting injured, mentions of knives, mentions of being stabbed, mentions of being tied up, mentions of hospitals, mentions of killing, mentions of general injury, mentions of guns/shooting, minimal use of y/n.

1.6k + words.

“We’re here, we’ll update you if anything comes of it,” Morgan promises Hotch over the phone as we walk to the front porch of one of our witnesses. Something about his story is messed up and we were the unlucky ones who had to go talk to him. It’s a pretty house I guess, a little expensive for what a 26 year old man could afford, and what he would want to buy. It’s all fifties style, the entire estate is. Big-enough bungalows with pastel walls and inviting doors with a small porch, just enough for the entry-way and a chair. I knock on the door, exhausted from the past 72 hours. Aaron and I got in a fight before we got to Ohio, it was unnecessary, but we fought all the same. He was mad at me for giving Jack advice that led to a fight between them. I just wanted to kiss and make up 3 days ago but he won’t budge. Maybe it’s because he knows I’m right and doesn’t want to confront it or maybe it’s because I took it too far and overstepped. Jack calls me ‘mom’, I live with him, and Jack came to me for support, he wanted guidance and I gave him it. He was mad at his dad because he missed meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Ava, was a lovely girl, I had been the one there when Jack brought her over for dinner, I was the one trying to suss out if they actually liked each other, and I was the one Jack sat down with for 2 hours after and told everything about her to. All because Aaron was too busy with paperwork in his study. Jack was hurt, which is difficult to do because he’s such an understanding 16 year-old boy. It was also hard because I saw both sides. I’ll be the first to admit that what Aaron did was wrong, but our job is hard and demanding, especially his since he’s the leader of our team… But Jack just wanted 2 hours of his time, not even, just a dinner. A dinner to meet his girlfriend, and Aaron still couldn’t make it. 

I knock again as I huff. 

“Everything alright?” Morgan asks, the regular playful glint in his eye. 

“Tired, mad, over this job. You?” I sigh. 

“Sounds about right,” He chuckles. “How’s Jack doing?” 

A smile spreads across my face. “He has a girlfriend,” Morgan’s face lights up in a smile. 

“My man,” He smirks and I chuckle. “You two met her yet?” 

My face drops again. “I have, Aaron… couldn’t make it to the dinner though. She’s lovely, perfect for Jack. It's so funny, it’s just opposites attract. Jack is so sporty and outspoken and she’s one of the quieter, more into her studies kind of person.” 

The door swings open and we’re met with David, our witness. 

“You two know what time it is?” He yawns. 

“Oh trust us, we know,” Morgan sighs. “Can we ask you a few more questions?” 

“It’s 10pm at night? Can’t this wait ‘till the morning?”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” I reassure. 

He looks between us for a moment, then sighs. “Quickly.”

We walk inside and are immediately hit with an awful smell. I know that smell. That’s when I see it, a body.

And that’s when it all goes black. 

I wake up in a new room, tied to a chair. I don’t see Derrick anywhere. I don’t see David anywhere. I’m all alone in this grey room. I don’t see a door but I notice a camera, and a screen in front of me. I see Penelope on the screen, then a sign above it with “Don’t make noise” scribbled. I look to my left and see a plastic window, I see Morgan through it, tied up too. He sees me. 

“Y/n? Y/n?! Where are you?” Penelope squeals. I shake my head and she picks up her phone and tries calling mine, it rings and I feel something go into my side. I scream out in pain as I see the blood start trickling out of me. Penelope drops her phone, then picks it up, dialling someone else’s number. 

I get switched to a joint call with Penelope, and the rest of the team, excluding Aaron. 

“Y/n?” Spencer asks and I nod, sobbing in pain. Spencer runs off-screen, leaving Jj and Emily to stare in horror at me.

Spencer comes back with Aaron and we make eye-contact through the screen, and he starts breaking. He’s shouting orders at the policemen in the precinct, he’s shouting orders at the team, and he’s trying not to cry. I know that. I also know I’m the only one who knows that. He hides it pretty well but not from me, not after all of our years together. His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow more than usual, he starts biting at the skin around his nails. 

“We’re coming to find you. We will find you,” he promises me. I nod slowly as the pain in my side becomes unbearable as the knife is pulled out. 

“Is Morgan with you?” Emily asks and I nod as I bite my lip until it bleeds to stop myself from making too much noise. 

“Is he in the room with you?” Spencer asks. 

I shake my head no. After what feels like an eternity of yes or no questions, they think they’ve located us.I hear banging on the door and then it opens. Spencer is standing there with an entire Swat team behind him. I shake my head to tell them to not make noise but they talk anyway and another knife is put into my leg, I don’t have the strength to stay quiet this time and another finds its way into my arm. I pass out. 

I wake up in a hospital bed, an IV in my arm, Aaron on one side and Jack on the other. Aaron’s asleep in a chair on my left, I grimace, knowing his back will hurt. 

“Mom?!” Jack exclaims as he sees me open my eyes. “Mom!” His eyes fill with tears as he gets up and wraps his arms around me on the bed. 

“Jack,” I sigh in relief. 

“You’re okay! You’re awake!” He smiles brightly, happy that I’m alive. 

Aaron wakes up from the commotion and rushes to my side. “Honey?” He takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay.”

I smile at both of them. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Jack smiles and he rushes off to find a doctor. 

“Honey I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” He starts but I cut him off. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he sighs, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Don’t go all soft now Aaron,” I joke. 

“You make me soft,” He smiles and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. 

Jack comes back in with a doctor. She tells me that I lost a lot of blood and that I will be out of the field for a few months, with 2 weeks of mandatory bedrest, then 4 weeks of physical therapy. 

The next day, the team come in to visit. 

“Hey,” Spencer smiles, walking in first. I’ve always been close to Spencer, he’s always felt like a little brother to me. 

“Hey,” I smile and wince when I hug him, but I know it’s worth it. The rest of the team filter in, smiles on their faces.“So what happened after I went out?”

“Well, they got me, no injuries apart from a concussion,” Morgan says. 

“We got the guy-” Emily starts.

“Aaron got the guy,” Spencer interrupts. “He saw him and just shot him-”

“And then he beat the crap out of him,” Jj says. “It was pretty intense.”

I nod along as they tell me the story, and then we just talk about whatever until Aaron comes in and says visiting hours are over. Spencer leaves me a few more books to read and Jj brings Jack to Ava’s house for the night. Aaron walks in with my dinner on a tray. 

“Hungry?” He smiles. 

“You shot someone for me?” I ask as he places my tray down.

“Yes.”

I roll my eyes and smile at him. “Is he alive?”

“No.” 

My face drops. “Oh.” 

“It was the combined bleeding and head trauma that killed him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I did.” 

I look at my food. “I understand you wanted to protect me-”

“I did that because he doesn’t get to live after doing this to you. Honey, you and Jack are the most important people in my life and I would do anything if it meant that you were safe and sound. Do you want to know how it felt to have what could’ve been my last words to you be ‘stop bothering me’? I was an asshole to you over the Jack situation because I knew you were right. I knew it wasn’t fair to not go to dinner when I was in the house. I knew it was important and it just felt too real. It felt like he was growing up and I just couldn’t take it because I missed so much of his childhood! So I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry that I said everything I said and did what I did, but I am not sorry about hurting that fucking monster,” He takes a deep breath. “Now eat up, it’ll go cold.”

“I love you Aaron, it’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, being a parents is hard.” 

His eyes fill with tears and he looks at me like an injured puppy. 

“Come here,” I smile and move over, allowing room for him to sit with me. He climbs into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me, being careful of my wounds. 

“I love you,” he whispers as I slowly eat my food. 

“I love you too.”

[syrupfog]

When Sanji runs from Germa, he doesn't make it far. He hides away in the brig of a merchant vessel for a short time, but as soon as he's found, they recognize him, and don't want Judge's wrath coming down on them, so they dump him the next time they make landfall.

The island he ends up at is one that's felt the threat of Germa for years, and they too recognize him, whether Sanji tries to deny it or not. Afraid of the omen that they see him as, they send him to an old manor at the edge of town and lock him away. 

He grows up there.

Like the dungeon, he's again alone and despised. 

But he tries to make the best of things. He can see the sun here, can wander the halls without fear, can cook what he wants from what the town delivers to his doorstep, which is often a little rotten but edible. 

He lives.

He assumes this is as good as life will ever get for someone in his position. There is nowhere he could go that they wouldn't know and fear him, despise him; at least here he's free from his family. At least here he can breathe fresh air. 

And then, one day, a man appears.

"Appears" is maybe a generous word. He comes crashing through the front door, armed to the teeth (literally), a sword in each hand and one in his mouth. Sanji, who had been simmering a bouillabaisse, comes running at the noise, spatula in hand for defense. 

The man looks at him.

He narrows his eyes. 

He charges right at Sanji. 

Sanji yelps, ducks behind his spatula as if it will protect him, and cowers. At the last second, his childhood training kicks in. He manages to dodge a swipe and RUNS for it. 

The man, who has made a crater in the wall, follows.

The manor has a maze of rooms, but Sanji's closed most of them off. It's just him here, after all. He runs into one of the first doors he finds and is faced with cobwebs and dust as he slams it behind him. 

He hears heavy footsteps behind the door slow to a stop. 

"Open up."

Oh he is NOT doing that. 

"Hey," says the man who has broken into his home with SWORDS. "I'm not going to attack you." 

"I do NOT believe that," Sanji shrieks. There's a spider in here and he's trying not to run screaming back into the hall. 

"I should've knocked," the man says.

Sanji stutters. "Swords!" he manages to get out. 

"They said there was a monster," the man says. "Paid me fifty thousand to kill it." 

...Oh. 

"Well," Sanji says. "They're right, that is me." 

The townspeople have probably put up with him for long enough. 

He opens the door.

The man is down to just one sword. He eyes Sanji. "Don't look like a monster," he says. "What, you transform in the moonlight?" 

Sanji snorts. "Nah, this is all there is. Was just born a monster. Surprised it took this long for them to try to get rid of me." Cowards, he thinks.

Maybe he's a little bitter. Maybe something inside of him still dreams of something better. T

he man cocks his head. "Pretty shitty monster," he says, sliding his last sword back into its sheath. "I don't need beri enough to cut down someone who defends himself with a spatula."

Sputtering, Sanji realises he's still holding it. "Shut up," he says. "What would you spend it all on anyway? A FOURTH sword?" 

The man shrugs. "Or food," he says. "Got washed up here a week ago, didnt exactly have a lot of pocket change on me." 

And, well. That's the magic word.

"I have food," he says. The bouillabaisse is still simmering. 

The man grins. "Not going to turn you down," he says. "I'm Zoro." 

"Sanji," Sanji says. "If you're not going to kill me, what do you know about fixing doors?" 

"Absolutely nothing," Zoro says.

Zoro... doesn't leave. 

Sanji feeds him, and Zoro has NO manners. He eats like he's never known what it means to be full. He's not talkative, although he's quietly hilarious. In return, Sanji's conversation is stilted. He's not used to talking, especially not to a real person.

But Sanji feeds him and he feeds him again, and Zoro doesn't leave. He leaves his dirty shoes on the carpet and cleans his swords on the kitchen floor while Sanji cooks. When they do talk, the words jump between polite niceties and petty arguments. 

It's... It's good.

Sanji's so happy. He hates the way Zoro seems to live in a state of mess, even while having come into the manor with nothing but the clothes on his back. But he loves the arguments, the verbal sparring, every word an acknowledgement that he's not alone. 

It's too good to be true.

Zoro doesn't talk about himself much, just that he's got a crew out there somewhere. Sanji wonders but doesn't press, an instinctual fear that if he pushes Zoro will leave. Zoro doesn't ask him much either, except for when the food shows up. 

"Cook," Zoro says, "That's rotten."

Sanji picks up a tomato, blackened on one side. "We can cut those bits off," he says. The produce is actually better than usual. 

"They send you rotted mush every week?" 

"Sometimes they skip a week," Sanji says with a shrug. "On holidays, I think." He doesn't own a calendar.

Zoro frowns, but shuts up. Sanji makes stew. 

He makes chili. 

He makes ratatouille. 

They live in companionable silence. Zoro trains and Sanji yells at him to not use the kitchen utensils as weights. 

It goes like this, for weeks. Good weeks. 

But good things don't last forever.

Almost two months on, someone comes crashing through the front door of the manor. For a moment Sanji thinks it's Zoro again, somehow, but remembers Zoro's napping in a sun puddle. 

Knife in hand this time, instead of a spatula, Sanji sneaks around the corner to the front door.

There's... a LOT of people pouring into the house, but front and centre is a man with a scar and a straw hat. He points at Sanji with a serious expression. "Are you the one who killed Zoro?" 

Sanji blanches. "N-no?" he asks. His knife isn't going to defend against NINE people.

Suddenly, from behind him, comes Zoro's voice. "Shut up, Luffy." 

"Zoro!" the man shouts, bounding past Sanji and wrapping himself around Zoro an unnatural number of times. 

"Told you he wasn't dead," a man with a long nose says. "Townspeople are terrible liars."

"Come on, Zoro," a redhead says. "We've got places to be and we just spent two months tracking you down." 

Sanji's stomach sinks. 

Of course. 

These are Zoro's people. His crew. These two months have been the best of Sanji's life, but for Zoro they've just been a waiting game.

He's had people out here looking for him this whole time. He has a world outside these walls. He's going to move on and live his life and forget about this little moment in time. 

This moment that Sanji will think about, dwell on, treasure, for the rest of his life.

He steps back, considers hiding in the pantry until they're gone. Before he's able to entirely flee the room, though, Zoro turns to him. 

"Luf," he says. "This guy's coming with us." 

Sanji stops. "Uh," he says. 

"He's a cook," Zoro says. 

Luffy turns to him. "Yeah?" he asks.

"I-" Sanji shakes his head. "I can't leave," he says. 

"Yes you can," Zoro tells him. "You're staying here because you think you deserve this." 

Luffy, standing between them, looks back and forth. "Zoro knows what he's talking about," he says to Sanji. "I trust him. You coming?"

"I'm a monster," Sanji says, because that's what the townspeople call him. They sent Zoro to KILL him, they know he's a monster. 

"You're not," Zoro says. "Come on, Cook. Come with us. You can live, now." 

Sanji wants to live. 

It's all he's ever wanted. 

"Promise?" he asks.

"Fucking promise," Zoro says, and he grabs Sanji's wrist. 

Pulls him out the door. 

Into a world Sanji thought was beyond him. 

He follows nine strangers and a swordsman who attempted to kill him onto a ship and into the bright blue ocean and doesn't once look back. 

He lives.

[george-weasleys-girl]

Fred Weasley x Reader? Perhaps smut where reader (I know Christmas passed but-) dresses up in an outfit and gives herself as a Christmas present towards him? Like after work or I don’t know if he and George close the shop at Christmas so up to you. 🫶

I had this crazy idea pop into my head and changed the timing up a bit. I hope you don't mind.🥹

Countdown to Midnight

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, intercourse

18+ only

Being married to Fred Weasley was the easiest thing in the world.

Being the sales rep for Weasley Wizard Wheezes wasn't always as easy.

Especially when your job required travel half-way across the globe to New York city, during the worst blizzard of in fifty years, grounding all flights in or out of the Big Apple, a mere two days before Christmas.

You'd had a big surprise planned for your husband on Christmas Eve. It was a fantasy Fred had mentioned once ages ago, and you intended to fulfill it before now, but life and forgetfulness got in the way.

Well, mainly forgetfulness.

But then life intervened in the annoying way it does far too often, and the surprise had to be postponed until tonight. A week later. On New Years Eve.

And the timing had to be perfect.

~•~

"I'm ready for bed, love," you whispered in his ear, ignoring his attempts to pull you into the conga line dancing past.

Fred's jaw dropped. "It's less than an hour until the New Year, and you want to sleep through the big moment?"

"Sleep," you grinned. "Who said anything about sleep? I said I was ready for bed."

"Oh." Your husband froze for a second as his tipsy brain caught up with what you just said. "OH!"

"I can think of far better things to be doing at the stroke of midnight," you continued, putting particular emphasis on the word stroke. "Than, just kissing." You let go of his hand and winked before hurrying upstairs, leaving him standing there staring after you in a stunned daze.

~•~

You only had just enough time to throw off your party dress and wrap the giant red ribbon around yourself. The look on Fred's when he opened the door to find you leaning back against the window frame in nothing but a silk bow would go down in history as one of your absolute favorite moments.

"Time to unwrap your present," you smiled and pushed yourself forward, walking toward him.His gaping mouth shifted into the biggest, dorkiest grin to ever grace his face. You couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped your lips.

"What are you laughing at, woman?" Fred continued to grin.

"You," you smiled. "You're so damn cute."

"And you're so damn hot," he mummered, his fingers tracing the ribbon barely covering you. "And I'm going to fuck you so damn good."

You didn't have time to think before he unwrapped you with a single, lighting-fast move, his lips immediately working their way down your jaw. "A little reminder to the world that you're mine," he said, pausing to run his thumb across the purplish mark now decorating your throat.

A ripple of pleasure rolled through you, and you thrust your hips forward. Fred smirked at your neediness but said nothing. Instead, he continued kissing and licking his way down to your breasts, drawing a litany of moans from you as he took one nipple into his mouth, nipping and sucking hard, then moving to the other before gliding his tongue lower.

"Such a pretty pussy," he praised seconds before plunging his tongue into your pulsing heat.

"Oh fuck, Freddie..."

The way you gasped out his name and clawed at his hair reminded him of his own aching need. He slid his hand down to unzip his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock, a desperate groan escaping his lips as he slowly began stroking himself.

"Fuck me, please," you begged. "I need you inside me."

"Needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased, looking up at you. "Need to cum baby?"

You nodded your head. "Please."

He leaned forward and gave your pussy one long, excruciatingly delightful lick. "Not yet. Not until the clock strikes midnight." Then he dove back in, kitten-licking your sensitive nub as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you upright as he brought you to the edge only to pull away at the last moment, over and over while the clock ticked ever closer to the new year.

Shaking with need, you barely registered the moment he gathered you up and tossed you on the bed, moaning one your name when sheathed himself inside you in one long thrust. "No cumming until I say so," he groaned in your ear. "We cum together tonight."

Fred pounded into you in time with the ticking of the clock, driving you both closer and closer to your orgasms. "So close," you gasped.

"Me too," he replied, his little moans and whimpers almost sending you over the edge. "Just hold on a little longer. Almost... time..."

Downstairs, the countdown began.

He picked up the pace.

"Oh god," he moaned, barely able to hold himself back when you rippled around him.

"Just hold on a little longer," you teased, prompting him to throw your legs over his shoulders so he could slam deeper into you, knowing it would push you to your limit.

"3," he groaned, his eyes locked onto yours.

"2," he dropped down onto arms, his thrusts becoming more erratic and desperate.

"1," he counted, his forehead falling against yours.

"Now!" He barely got the word out before he exploded, filling you to the brim as your pussy pulsed around him, milking him for every last drop.

~•~

"Happy New Year, love," you grinned. "What did you think of your present?"

Fred chuckled. "Best way ever to ring in the new year. We should do this every year."

"Agreed," you said, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"And every Valentines," he added. "And birthday. And anniversary. And Christmas."

"So every holiday, then," you giggled.

"I'll mark it on the calendars."

"Good idea," you said. "I'd hate to miss it."

"Mhmm," he nodded, pulling you on top of him.

You cocked your eyebrow at him. "Don't you think we should head back down to the party?"

"Why should we?" He asked, his hands roving all over your body. "When there's a perfectly good party going on right here in our bed."

[randomfoggytiger]

Scully and Matters of the Heart: S1-4

Scully's thoughts on love and relationships.

Fire

So, she shows up knowing the power she has over you and then she makes you walk through fire, is that it? ...Mulder, are you sure you don't need me to help you out on this one?

Gender Bender

Hard to imagine in this day and age someone having sex with a perfect stranger.

Lazarus

We dated for almost a year.... But it was always hard for Jack to relax, it was impossible for him, really. He was always so intense, so relentlessly determined.

Tooms

Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you.

One Breath

Mulder? I had the strength of your beliefs.

Firewalker

["He stopped taking his pills. Yeah, he said that they were polluting his brain. And, he said I was polluting his body.... I just want to go home, now."]

Where's home?

["Anywhere but here."]

Aubrey

Things must be difficult for you now. I've had... feelings for people I've worked with. Inner-office relationships can be complicated-- especially when he's married.

Fearful Symmetry

["Whatever... connection he and I had was over long ago."]

But you asked him, anyway. To help you.

D.P.O.

Well, you don't have to be afraid anymore. You and your husband are safe as long as we can count on your testimony.

The List

Woman gets lonely. Sometimes she can't wait around for a man to get reincarnated.

2Shy

You're more than a monster: you didn't just feed on their bodies, you fed on their minds.

War of the Coprophages

Her name is Bambi? ...Her name is Bambi?

Syzygy

["Must be Detective White."]

If that's the reason we're sticking around, that's your business.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space

["...For, although Diana Leski is noble of spirit and pure at heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee."]

Avatar

["He lives under this misguided notion that silence is strength. He's built a wall to keep everyone out."]

Including you?

["Especially me."]

Is that why you were separated?

Home

["I can tell you don't have no children. Maybe one day you'll learn the pride... the love."]

Unruhe

Why did your sister kill herself, Gerry? What did your father do to her?

The Field Where I Died

["Dana, if um... early in the four years we've been working together, an event occurred that suggested or if somebody told you that we'd been friends together... in other lifetimes, always... would it have changed the ways we looked at one another?"]

Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day.

Paper Hearts

["You do this full-time-- telling people this kind of news?"]

No, sir, not full-time.

El Mundo Gira

He didn't kill her, Mulder.... Mulder, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think the aliens in this story are not the villains but the victims.

Never Again

This circle: it usually starts when an authoritative or controlling figure comes into my life; and part of me likes it-- needs it, wants the approval-- but then at a certain point along the way I just... y'know.

Memento Mori

For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat: the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart-- look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you-- is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose....

Kaddish

And through all this he hid the ring?

["Even after the war, he hid it. Even from my mother."]

Why?

["Because to him it was a dead relic from a forgotten place. Until the day I told him I was getting married; and for the first time in fifty years, he took out this ring. He said he felt his village was being born again. He knew how much I loved Isaac."]

Unrequited

Mulder, what she has is a simple... hemorrhage brought on by her emotional state.

Max

["Can I buy you a drink?"]

No, it's okay-- I'm with somebody.

Synchrony

Lisa, if you're leaving anything out-- if you're hedging the truth, you could be held accountable if Jason committed a crime.

Small Potatoes

No, I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder.

["Is that a good thing?"]

I like it.

Elegy

I mean, maybe in some drug-addled way she was trying to kill happiness-- Harold's happiness. His love for those women. Trying to destroy something she never thought she'd have again.

Demons

["Why shoot herself and her husband?"]

I can't say definitively; but judging from an almost identical suicide... I believe that the victims were suffering....

Gethsemane

Hey, look, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God doesn't mean I'm not responsible to what's important to me.

["To what? To who? This guy Mulder?"]

Thank you for reading~ Enjoy!

[phychohex]

I met a vampire down in Santa Carla (chapter one)

I pulled up the driveway dread seeping its way into my pours. I managed to get here in just one day only stopping for gas and food. I sit trying to gather the courage to face them again, especially after seeing them last. When I spoke to my mother on the phone asking if she could please help me and was immediately allowed; it took me by surprise. My stepdad and I never really saw eye to eye on just about everything. From religion to people who were different from us. My mom wasn't that way though. She just happened to be trapped in marriage something I never realized until being in the same boat. Stuck with a man who claims to love you only to show the opposite. I finally get the gull to walk up to the door knocking three times.

When the door opened I could barely recognize the woman in front of me the once youthful face now wrinkled with stress and the sad fake smile. Her hair was put up in a tight bun and her clothes resembled those of an old woman. Even though she was only in her early fifties. "Aurora my love come in you're just in time for supper" She stands aside letting me in and I see Steve sitting on his throne watching a football game. The brown leather recliner laid out as he looked up wearing what can only be Sunday best even if it was Monday. 'never know when we will meet god, so we always need to look our best' is what he always told me. He stands up a groan leaving him how he looked the same. From the tall lean figure that seemed to loom over you like a predator looking down on his prey. His hair greying and kept in a slick back appearance with those dull dark eyes pricing through my soul, judging me.

"Aroura" he nods I couldn't do it. My eyes hit the floor as a mix of fear and shame came over me. The last thing I told him was I would never come back to this hell hole and that I would never need his help. Now I hate that I was wrong this was the part I knew I would hate the most. The look in those cold dead eyes saying I told you so. "Is Dinner ready?" he asks my mom leading us to the dining room where a nice roast was all prepared for us. We sit down back in our spots. It was like I never left. He held his hand out to me so we could pray over our food. I was not religious I was the opposite I hated it. I know not everyone is that way but with what I had to go through because of god, because I was 'sinful' I couldn't help but despise it. The thought of religion sent chills up my spine and yet I joined hands and pretended to pray along with them.

As we say our amen and start eating he pipes up "So how was John" he asks the tone in his voice screaming that he was eating this up.

"Steve" Mom tries but he holds his hand up.

"you know this is my house Aruroa so I have rules," he starts

"Rory" I mutter "I go by Rory" I look up nervous. "that's what my friends call me," Having never told them before I just couldn't take not at least trying to be myself.

"Okay then, Rory. I have rules; now I know you are a woman now, all grown up. All I ask is you cover your tattoos inside the house and especially outside. I am a well-known member of society as you may know" That was true he was friends with a bunch of politically rich people. "I don't want you to be an embarrassment, you understand. Modesty is what I expect this means no crop tops, shorts or skirts must be at least knee length and no tight-fitting clothing it's unbecoming. Lastly, I want you to contribute help with chores and such." he smiles I look over to Mom as she smiles.

"It will be nice. A good change of pace to have help right" she asks

"Mom what about you, you work right"

"oh no" she shakes her head "I gave it up a few years ago" I was stunned. She was an amazing Veterinarian surgeon and loved what she did.

"well, that's good." I smile "But I think I will try to get a job if that's alright"

"With what education" Steve pipes up "Last I checked you never finished school"

"I didn't but I did get my GED, and then I went into a trade" The shock on his face was everything. After being told I couldn't do it and then to prove him wrong. "may I be excused I have some unpacking to do" I ask and they let me. I go out to the car grabbing my bags before going up to my childhood bedroom. The door opens with an eerie creek. The room was just as I left it. The full-sized bed with a creme-colored blanket. The frame has four long points with old fairy lights hanging from them. One light brown nightstand with a simple lamp and then a dresser across from the bed. All the neutral colors. If you told someone a sixteen-year-old used to live in this room I'd tell you that it was sad. Sitting on the old mattress and opening the drawer of the nightstand looking at the unused bible just collecting dust. Gazing to meet the Jesus painting that hung right above my bed. I hear a knock as Steve opens the door.

"gosh, so many memories." he shakes his head smiling "I remember that day, the rush you had as you got into that car cursing our names. Your mother she would lay in here for days sulking. You put that woman through hell you know," he sits next to me the numbness was back all I could do was nod. "she has asked me to not be so harsh on you, and for her sake, I plan to so do what you want with the room all I ask is you not deface god, show respect." he puts his hand on my back "I'm glad your back, no matter what you may think of me I am glad to have raised you, and that you have come to your senses" he stands up. Looking at the Jeues painting. "remember he is always watching over us."

"take it" I mutter "I don't want it in here" Tears peek up again. he lets out a disappointed sigh taking it down. As he is walking out the door he turns back to look at me.

"keep this door closed at all times, I don't want guests coming in" he shuts the door with more force than needed. I lay down in my bed trying to get over the feeling of entrapment. Telling myself over and over this was better than what I came back from. With the thought playing over and over I found myself falling asleep.

I wake up looking at the time. It's almost noon and I have to rush out. when I told my friends I was coming back we made plans to go out for lunch and meet back at the shack. The shack is an old hideout we made when we were younger. It was a trailer out in the woods just outside town. It used to be my friend's uncle's trailer and once it was paid off he didn't want it and agreed to give it to us as a clubhouse while he built his dream place just a mile down the road. I brush my hair looking in the mirror the bruise on my arm still dark. Using what makeup I had I covered it to the best of my ability before taking a glance over. Wearing a long-sleeve navy blue sweatshirt and then a skirt that went to my ankles which was black with navy blue flowers and black dock martins. I try to ignore the tired look and puffiness in my eyes. The light peeking its way through the curtains. Focusing on the dark auburn hair that was in a sloppy ponytail and the freckles that went along my cheeks like scattered stars. I grab my bag before heading out for lunch.

Sitting at the small little shop waiting. I hear a squeal and see Kayla rushing over. I stand up and she practically throws herself at me. She was gorgeous as ever, with honey-brown eyes long dark hair, and caramel skin. Not far behind her was Lilly a once light blonde now neon pink and fully decked with piercings. We sit down and start catching up. "okay, okay so I just started at this little nail salon down at the boardwalk and I'm meeting up with this guy who is a college professor he is so cute you have to meet him. Oh and guess who finally got together" I give Lilly a bright smile.

"Really?" I exclaim. Lilly used to have a huge crush on our friend Josh and everyone knew he liked her back but both of them were so deep in teenage awkwardness. They never would admit it to each other or anyone else. "since when"

"When we first started college. I'm studying for my nursing and he is going into film" Lilly smiles sheepishly "But what about you, why are you back so suddenly? I mean don't get me wrong we are all beyond happy but when you left it was because your stepdad pushed the last straw, I mean what he said I don't blame you and what he put you through so why move back in."

"Well, long story short I took off with an even worse person" I glance down adjusting my sleeve hoping they don't notice. Kayla reaches over and holds my hand her eyes filled with sorrow. I nod laughing as I wipe a tear. "I guess I should've seen that one coming huh, I mean what nineteen-year-old runs off with a sixteen-year-old."

"a fucked up one, I knew I never liked him" Kayla rolls her eyes "What happened, do I have to go and kill his ass."

"no, that would be too merciful" I laugh. "don't worry it's not like he knows I'm here.

"You're strong you know, getting away from it. Not many can" Lilly agrees "But seriously what a fucked up dude didn't he start trying to get you when you were like fourteen, he was a senior that just wrong." Lilly nods, "hey you know what we should all stop by the shack"

"yes that's perfect get the hell out of here and to a real comfort place." having finished our food we all go and meet up at the shack. Pulling in brought so many memories, all the weed we smoked the karaoke nights the game nights all the worst and fucked up movies we would sneak past the guys at the video store. it was a safe haven for us, no adults, just some dumb high schoolers with either nothing to do or escaping the reality of our own lives. It was our fortress, no one could tell us what to do. No one could take away the joys of being young and stupid and a place where we all looked out for each other. I get out seeing Will on the front porch smoking a blunt. He changed so much once a scrawny kid with messed up hair now in shape his big poofy hair held back with a ponytail holder. He looked good, especially for how he was brought up. He was one of us who was escaping.

While Lilly was the one who got us the shack cause of her Uncle she was also the den mother. The one who always cared and never had shit to do. Kayla was the same that is unless she had to watch her younger siblings. The three of us have been friends since the third grade when I first moved here. But for me and Will it was the safe zone. I was getting away from my stepdad who forced me to believe and who punished me if I didn't, but I felt he had it worse. His mom was a druggie and always had men coming and going which ended him in some trouble. Dealing drugs and having gotten addicted to heroin. It changed once he almost died and we freaked out. It was harsh but it needed to be said and if it hadn't he would probably be doped up. Kayla screamed at him saying he was no better than his mother. He went to rehab for a long time and I left before he came back. He looks up putting the blunt out and waves.

As I make my way up the stairs we clap our hands together and pull into a hug. "oh shit, they told me you was back, how you been" he smiles

"I've been" I shrug

"Felt you there, so hows that dipshit you were dating"

"don't know don't care how is your mom"

"dead" he laugh "fucking good riddance" We go inside the place was different probably cause we'd aged. the once dimly lighted room now has lights along the walls and a bright light and funky fan. With a wrap-around couch instead of bean bags which now sit in the corner. The TV was updated along with the gaming system and two bookshelves filled with games and movies. Down the hall, the game room is completely decked out with the table in the middle and shelves almost covering every wall with all the things a DND player could ask for. I see Josh in his natural habitat snapping pictures of some figures. He looks up smiling.

"awe shit," he makes his way around "bout time you stopped by, it's been what like six years? You look good" he complements

"you too" he nods the lanky figure and beanie giving hipster vibes. "what are you doing"

"oh well I'm working on stop motion so I take a photo and then move everything slightly and repeat the process until eventually I have a video of these guys moving. it's for an assignment, come on let's go sit down." everyone sitting in the living room music blasting as we hot box. It has been years and to say it was hitting hard was an understatement. Sitting with a big bag of barbecue chips listening to what everyone has been up to.

"You know what I was just telling my co-worker that I used to be in a band." Kayla announces "We should do that again now that Rory's back" I sit up shaking my head.

"hell no" I laugh "It's been years"

"exactly that's why we should, not for fame or money just for shits and giggles plus you used to sound like a literal siren" she pushes "Come'on what do you got to lose we can put it in with our DND sessions"

"Yeah we could" Josh nods "Every Wednesday we are all here anyway might be a good time Lilly still has all our old stuff we can set up here"

"where in here" Lilly scuffs "You giving your dnd room up?"

"hell no" Josh sits back. "we will figure it out but if we do you have to agree to at least try" he points passing me the joint. I take a quick puff and let out a long sigh,

"fine" Kayla jumped up in excitement before hugging me again. "hey I said try if it doesn't work out then that's not on me"

"Don't be a party pooper" Kayla pouts "I mean what are you going to do anyways"

"look for a job that's for starters there is no way I'm going to play housewife and be cooped up with sir I told you so, no way"

"Well, what are you looking for" Josh asks as I pass the joint.

"tattoo, I'm a tattoo artist and have been for three years now" I smile "I love it I wouldn't trade it for anything"

"I know a guy who is looking for an artist he is trying to do an almost twenty-four-hour opening. he is looking for the night shift from six to three. I can recommend you if you'd like." Will offers.

"yes that would be amazing" excitement filled as hope of actually being able to save up enough money to move out looking more and more possible, "where is it at"

"the boardwalk, its called Pop's Ink my guy Oscar is the owner pops was his old gang name I can have him give you a call" After a few more hours of talking and catching up it was time to finally head back home.

It wasn't even a whole week later when I got the call for a job interview. Like Will said he was looking for the night shift and seemed to be desperate. I make sure I'm in one of my nicer outfits with my hair in a messy bun and light makeup. Wearing winged eyeliner and a red lip along with nude eyeshadow. I grab my work bag that carries my portfolio of all the tattoos I have done and am the most proud of, my resume, and references. I walk down the stairs and as I am heading out the door I notice Steve eyeing me.

"where you heading to kiddo" he interrogates.

"I have a job interview" with my hand on the doorknob ready to leave.

"at six pm?"

"yep it's for a night shift and the owner is there right now for the interview so I have to go."

"what job interview happens this late anyways." he scuffs shaking his head "You know I let you back into my home and if you are trying to go off and do a job that is ungodly I swear. Besides, I provide enough to care for you and your mother there isn't any need for you to get one"

"look" I turn with what courage I have. "I understand your views on the matter and I don't agree okay. this way I can prove I'm responsible and it's not a sinful job like you may think. I'm not going out to be a stripper or prostitute if that's what you're concerned with. I'm going to use the trade that I told you about. I would love to stand here and explain but I don't want to be late I'll most likely not get home till later so tell mom not to wait up for me for dinner" With that I leave rushing to my car before letting out a sigh of relief. I drive the fifteen minutes to the boardwalk. even though I lived here the majority of my life I was never allowed in this area. With all the murders my mom thought it be best I stay clear. I make my way into the shop with late 90s rock lightly playing and the red walls with black printouts of pinup girls and then the counter. I look around not sure what to do. That's when I noticed a tall big burly man with a sleeve tat and a long beard. Reminded me of Santa Clause, well if Santa Clause was in a biker gang which I think this guy was. "hey are you Oscar" I pipe up. he turns and makes his way over his aura very dark and intimidating which quickly fades once he smiles.

"you must be Rory it's nice to meet you" I was taken back nodding and giving him a firm handshake. "Will told me you would be by" he was Santa, what the fuck.

"p-pops," I ask he sighs laughing.

"told you I was a gang member I told him not to do that, no that's my trucker name I was one for almost twenty years before tattooing. We meet in rehab used to do coke in my youth and I help run the support group where everyone calls me pops there too" he lets out a deep laugh and ushers me to sit down. "so you're looking for a tattoo gig right, well came to the right place let me take a look at what you got." with a startle I got through my bag and hand him my portfolio. he flips to the first page which was an eagle and American flag in full color. slowly flipping the pages no real reaction.

from the pinups to full color, and realism he closes it and nods. "that's fucking impressive what you'd say you are the weakest in"

"well to be honest it would be realism it takes me the longest and I'm not used to doing them a lot, but specifically doing photo realism of a human, if it was an animal or object I can do that pretty well. "

"Where do you think you are the best in"

"in my lining and color taking my time and getting it done right has always been really important to me"

"so would you say your time management skills aren't top quality"

"Well, I would rather take my time and get it right than have someone leave with a bad tattoo. The Bride of Frankenstein bust I did took about ten hours. same with Frank himself. I usually charge per hour and when I do start I can't finish cause it would bug me a bit so I don't take many breaks unless the client needs them if I do then it's just to get a drink or use the bathroom no longer then ten minutes and I stop the clock for the client so unless I am tattooing then the clock will be going."

"how much do you usually charge"

"depends on the type but I range between twenty-five to fifty an hour for them I did thirty, if need be I can do a flat rate of twenty-five"

"and twenty percent going to the shop is fine with you," he asks writing things down.

"yeah that's fine"

"Okay um, who trained you"

"Katie Fitz, here is her number" I hand him the number he looks over and stands up.

"well I am impressed I of course want to call her first but I can call you within the next couple of days and tell you what I decide but your chances are pretty good." he walks me out "It was a pleasure to meet you" I shake his hand.

"same here " I make my way to my car and when the beauty of the boardwalk takes my breath away. from the smell of cotton candy and restaurants to the screaming of joy from the people at the small fair ground-like area with the lights illuminated by the Ferris wheel and the doors of all the shops wide open. I noticed the sun was setting and even though I knew I should head home I couldn't stop that little devil in my ear telling me a look around wouldn't hurt. I make my way looking at the shops. There was the nail salon, then a soap shop with bath bombs and perfume, go further and you will find a bar that leads you to a tourist-like shop. I notice a quiet little bookstore that has a coffee shop at the front. As the smell of coffee invades my lungs and the large maze-like rows of books call to me I soon found myself going up and down the isles.

I come to the horror area which was ironically placed at the very back in a corner. I look up trying to see what would catch my eye first. I stumbled upon a new Stephan King novel that I have yet to read. Just as I was reaching up the sound of the bell that was to alert people entering the shop dings and blaring hard rock music filled the once quiet and peaceful space. I go to the end of the aisle and peer to see a group of four guys have come barreling in. Looking like they just stepped out of the 80's and gave off a menacing vibe. Not anything like what I felt when first meeting Oscar. This was true don't fuck with me energy that chilled me to the core. The tallest with long dark hair and brooding nature walks to the mystery section making it clear whose idea it was to stop by. The youngest and shorts with curly hair cut into a mullet ran around holding the boom box that was playing harsh music. He reminded me of a kid who forgot his ADHD meds. As he ran past another member of the group who was leaning against the table pulling all his best moves to get with one of the girls who sat peacefully at their table. His long blond hair which also was cut into a mullet seemed to be succeeding making the girls lean into whatever it was he said. My eyes go over not even two feet and are met with bright blue hues. The light blue reminded me of the light hitting the ocean just right. They made my skin bump up with anxiety and set my mind on high alert.

Going back to the area I was just trying to think of a way out. Away out where I wouldn't be interrupted by any of them. This all went right down the drain when I glanced over to see he was looking at the books with me. He must've made a straight beam over. I look back up at the book that I once debated on getting. He leans over being very close. I look over our eyes meeting and he holds the book above my head. I look to see if it was the last one that I would be able to reach. I wasn't short these bookshelves were just insanely tall. At least that's what I like to tell myself, Im average height 5'5 isn't abnormal and yet at this moment it seemed not tall enough as he loomed over me egging me on with the book over my head as if we were two school children.

He sports a cheeky grin knowing he was getting on my nerves. "what's your name, princess" his voice had a mocking tone to it. Not daring to answer I just turn to grab my things. "awe come on" he holds the book out. Unsure whether to try and grab it or not I stretch my hand out which causes him to pull back "Your name, doll" I officially am now fed up. "I'll give it to you all I want is your name" We hear the chick at the front finally lose her cool.

"Dwayne get your skank ass friend out of here" He rolls his eyes clearly annoyed by the demand,

"Last chance" he backs away tempting me with the book. I don't know why but it was like I couldn't stop myself,

"Rory" I mutter "My name is Rory" he smiles handing me the book before waving.

"I'll see you around" he turns and they all leave being just as loud as they were when they first entered the shop. What the fuck was that and why did I give him a total stranger my name for a fucking book. I checked out and went home laying down to read but they just kept playing in my mind on repeat. I lay awake trying to understand what the hell happened. What pissed me off is the book was not worth telling a strange man in a trench coat looking like he would shoot up the joint for.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

A question for either of you! When did you first fall in love with the other?

- 🦀

Thin hotel walls meant that Matthew, in Vancouver overnight for a meeting, could hear every sordid detail of the couple arguing in the next room.

He groaned and rolled over in bed, searching for something to throw so they would shut up for five minutes, but as he was about to toss a shoe, his gaze landed on his buzzing phone. A relieved smile crossed his face as he picked it up and answered it.

"Hallo, Maus!" Came the cheerful, if sleepy, voice on the other end.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

Gilbert, who was in their king sized bed and swaddled in more blankets and stuffed animals than there was really room for, balanced his phone on his shoulder while he scrolled on his laptop.

"How's the trip going?"

A sigh left Matthew's lips as he held the phone out towards the wall, so Gilbert could hear exactly how it was going. "They've been arguing for three hours now, over a fucking hair dryer from what I can tell."

"Put me on speaker and up against the wall."

Matthew did as told and had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Gilbert shouted in German at the top of his lungs about how nice the weather was, and effectively shut the couple up. The cackle afterwards, as Matthew pulled the phone back to his ear, was just icing on the cake.

"My knight in shining armor." He sighed, and could practically feel the pleased grin coming from his lover on the other end.

"Ah, don't mention it. Oh, right! The reason I called you is because we got an ask from an anonymous crab!"

"...From a crab?"

"Yeah! Here, listen to how I'm gonna answer before I type it out."

And just like that, Matthew was whisked down memory lane.

- -

Berlin, 1990

“And he can’t stay with anyone else? Not even Alfred?”

Ludwig sighed and put down his newspaper to look at his dear older brother in a silent bid for pity. “No. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal, Gilbert.”

The albino, sitting pretty on the kitchen counter in a black band shirt that was far too big for his gaunt frame, narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you know, maybe because last time I saw him he shot me in the head while I was trying to get to you.”

“That was almost fifty years ago. Things are-”

“Different.” Gilbert spat. How many times had he heard that this week alone? “Fine. You want to keep that fucking monster in the house when I’ve been back for what, less than three months? Sure, yeah, why not! When you wake up tomorrow with him pointing a rifle at you, don’t you dare call me for help.”

Another ragged sigh was drawn out from Ludwig’s lips, who looked like he’d aged a few years from this conversation alone. “It’s only for a night or two. Just… please, don’t be a complete ass? Please? The last thing I need after this meeting is to clean blood off the floor.”

“I’ll think about it.” Gilbert said, knowing full well the venom injected indicated he had already thought about it, and Ludwig would most certainly not like his conclusion.

In the roughly forty minutes it took for Ludwig to pick Matthew up from the airport, Gilbert had moved from the counter to the table, tired body on vigil for the enemy that would be traipsing in any time now. Crimson eyes snapped to the door as soon as he heard the doorknob turn. Ludwig came in first, and coming behind him with both a guitar case and a suitcase was the Canadian himself.

Their eyes met almost immediately. Guarded and worn vermillion bored a hole through soft lavender, and Matthew dropped his gaze to the tiled floor after only a moment or two. Once he was upstairs and out of sight, silvery brows furrowed in confusion. Gilbert had expected a fight. The last few decades especially, in a long life dedicated to war, had taught him to always expect a fight. But his wordless challenge had been forfeited almost immediately. Huh.

Gilbert didn’t bother taking part in the small talk that occurred in the living room. He was there, of course, making sure things were as awkward as he possibly could so maybe Matthew would get the hell out of his house, but couldn’t care less about how the flight over was. He was quite open in his wordless scrutiny of the newcomer and yet hid his vexation over his findings behind a thin veneer of petulance at the man’s mere presence. The guy looked… nervous. Anxious. Like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but was far too polite to say so. His thumbs twiddled in his lap. He nodded along to whatever Ludwig was saying, offered hollow smiles exactly when he was supposed to, and stole glances at Gilbert to see if he was still being stared at like he had three heads.

Given that he was watching so closely, the albino saw the small sigh of relief when Ludwig indicated it was time to go to the meeting. The two left after a quick goodbye, and as soon as the front door was closed, Gilbert scurried upstairs and to the spare bedroom that had been given to Matthew. Something didn’t quite add up here. Where was the monster from nearly fifty years ago? What was he hiding?

Gilbert opened the door to find both the guitar case and suitcase had been hastily set on the bed. The guitar case was decorated with stickers from strange places like ‘Vancouver’, ‘Whitehorse’, ‘Saskatchewan’, and a few cities in America that Gilbert did recognize, like New York. Inside was a normal acoustic guitar, dappled by handmade paintings of red leaves. Nothing suspicious there.

The suitcase, a gaudy thing with flower print that was apparently a hallmark of the 70’s, honestly didn’t hold much of interest either. Clothes that smelled of maple and had been shoved in at random, a mostly-empty bottle of cologne, an entire set of pens that were just loose in there, and a sizeable stuffed moose. Gilbert pulled it out curiously and looked at it. Soft brown fur, adorable black buttons for eyes, admittedly the perfect size for hugging… A meaningless smirk crossed Gilbert’s face as he put the stuffie back, and rearranged everything so it looked as it did when he arrived.

“Still has to sleep with a toy. What a loser.”

This bit of stolen intel was enough to satisfy him that, at the very least, Matthew wasn’t dangerous. Gilbert went to his room and selected one of the many books he’d never read but had kept since the turn of the century, and remained there for the rest of the day.

It was about three and a half hours after the meeting was supposed to be over that Gilbert heard the front door open. By then, the sun had long set beneath the horizon and the house had gone dark. Two sets of weary feet trudged up the stairs. Two doors opened, indicating the returning blonds had gone into their respective rooms. A few minutes later one of the doors opened again and someone went back downstairs. Gilbert thought nothing of this, figuring maybe Ludwig had gone down for some TV to unwind or something.

That is, until he heard the first muffled notes ring out from an acoustic guitar.

The only music Gilbert had heard for decades was whatever Soviet drivel Ivan forced him to listen to, for the glory of the Motherland or whatever. Music laced with poison, thinly veiled propaganda, bombastic orchestras of people praising the regime that kept them under lock and key. It was nothing like the song now being performed downstairs. Even if he didn’t necessarily like the guy playing it, Gilbert decided that he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to listen more closely. Who knew how long it was until Ivan claimed him again? Who knew how long it would be before he heard no more music at all?

Silent as a ghost, the albino crept downstairs and came to haunt the living room doorway. Matthew sat on the floor, bathed in soft orange light from the lamp, eyes closed and pouring his soul into some sorrowful tune. If he noticed that he now had an audience he certainly didn’t show it. His voice was a bird, soaring, swooping and diving through the octaves while his hands kept a steady rhythm and melody on his guitar. Gilbert forgot his previous animosity for a few moments as he stood entranced by the performance in front of him. When the song was over, Matthew’s eyes fluttered open like bird’s wings to meet softening crimson. A whisper of a smile crossed the Canadian’s lips as he moved right into another tune.

“You’re welcome to come sit if you’re going to listen.” He offered, before launching into the lyrics and losing himself in the song once more.

It took a few more tunes before Gilbert took him up on his offer. It started with stepping into the room, hand still on the doorway, just in case. A few more steps, another song. A boney hand resting on the easy chair opposite to the couch. Then, finally, Gilbert settled on the floor in front of Matthew and basked in the notes played just for him as if it were a warm shower.

Gilbert didn’t know how many songs were played for him. The talented musician before him blended the end of one into the beginning of another, and while he couldn’t understand all the lyrics sung to him, he certainly got the idea. From joyous celebration to the depths of sorrow, from puppy love to one final goodbye to a partner, Matthew took Gilbert’s hand and reintroduced him to emotions he’d forgotten he could feel.

Matthew only set the guitar down once his fingers were too sore to keep playing. By then, exhaustion had etched itself into his face. Or perhaps it was there at the beginning and Gilbert was too focused on the music to notice?

“Got more bullshit diplomacy to deal with tomorrow?” Gilbert asked, forgoing the venom from that morning.

Matthew sighed and looked at the clock hanging on the wall that showed him it was far, far past his bedtime. “Yeah. You’d think we could have gotten everything done, given that we stayed an extra three hours, but nope. Looks like I’ll be staying here tomorrow night too. I’m, um, I’m sorry about that, by the way. I know you don’t really want me here.”

Oh. Right. Gilbert had been all fire and brimstone about Matthew not staying, and yet here he was, with a twinge of guilt in his chest because the man he’d so desperately wanted out of his home had been kind enough to play for him for an hour. Fantastic.

“Well… I guess you do need somewhere to stay. Can't have you sleeping outside, after all.”

That seemed to be enough to bring a smile back to Matthew’s face. “I appreciate it. I- Oh! I forgot!”

Before Gilbert could respond, Matthew had run up the creaky wooden stairs and come back down with two items in his hands. He sat back down, beaming as much as he could while sleep tried desperately to claim him, and held out a familiar stuffed moose and a maple-leaf shaped bottle with syrup inside to Gilbert. A silvery brow quirked in confusion, prompting the Canadian to explain.

“Gifts from my place. I thought, well, maybe something sweet and something soft might help while you get your strength back.”

Gilbert sat in stunned silence, looking between the gifts and the sweet smile Matthew gave him, burning the image of both into his memory for later viewing. So, that moose that he’d called the man a loser over… had been for him all along? With an uncharacteristic gingerness, he took the stuffed animal first and set it in his lap. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

Most of his belongings needed to be replaced when he came home in November. His bed had been bought only a month ago, his civilian clothes didn't exist anymore, and… well, he’d gone from where hell was delivered in sweat and bullets to where it grabbed frozen grasp of one's soul and squeezed until there was nothing left. Maybe he didn’t have all that much to his name to begin with.

But now, even though he wore his brother’s shirt because time and Moscow had ruined all of his, even though his room was devoid of personality and everything except furniture, he had a soft little moose friend. And it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that meant the world to him. Gilbert lifted his gaze to kind (if exhausted) eyes and a knowing smile, to hair that was a golden halo framing round glasses, and the Matthew that shot him all those years ago was all but forgotten. With a little lopsided smile, he grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and cracked it open.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, you and I.”

“Me or the moose?” Matthew asked with a little laugh.

“Oh, definitely the moose. But I guess you’re okay too.” Gilbert returned with a smirk. And the rest, as they say, is history.

[tour-de-pants]

Guys, I did a thing...

Just a quick alt meet RPF of Watson and Holmes... You know I ship it, don't @ me! Let me know if I should do more :) -Pants

If he’d been paying any attention, Watson would’ve noticed the aggravated stare from the woman one table over. He’d been tapping a slim wooden stir stick against his mug for five minutes that must’ve felt to her like fifty. He wasn’t the sort to annoy strangers, or anyone, intentionally. Usually he didn’t even mind someone else running late to a meeting. But if Lestrade didn’t turn up soon he might just lose his mind.

Training diets were a hell he put himself through willingly, and after fifteen years, the strain was fairly easy to take. Without much of a sweet tooth to speak of, he had it better than many—especially poor Anderson, who harbored a desire for pain au chocolat to rival his want for a mountain win. Not a lot got to Watson anymore, but the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans in this place… damn if he wasn’t about to crack and down a massive hazelnut concoction worth half a day’s calories. 

“‘Ugh, honestly,”’ the woman one table over grunted, drawing Watson’s attention away from the door. He frowned as she met his eyes with a look of disgust. A lifetime in London wouldn’t be enough to understand these people. 

“‘Hey John, sorry ‘bout that. Perils of mass transport, you know how it goes.” ’Lestrade slid into the seat across the table, the bizarrely small size of which Watson was noticing for the first time. They really didn’t want folks to hang about, he guessed. 

“‘It’s alright, Coach,”’ Watson answered, gulping his unexpectedly still hot tea. 

“‘Aw, don’t you do that, mate. Makes me feel like an old man in charge of a bunch of teenagers.”’

“‘I know.” ’Watson smiled. Lestrade was a good guy—and a good coach. Maybe he was jumping the gun with this whole retirement thing. “‘So what are we doing here? Besides testing my resolve against the Kenyan roast of the day?”’

“‘Need to let you in on something before the Prologue, being team captain and all. I wish I could tell the whole group, but it’s a bit sensitive.”’ The clasping and unclasping of Lestrade’s fingers told Watson this wouldn’t be a time for jokes, regardless of what he was about to hear. Something distinctly non-chamomile turned in his stomach.

“‘What’s up? Is someone injured?”’ He leaned forward the few inches it took to bring their heads close. “‘Worse?”’ 

“‘Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, thank God. No, it’s…you’re getting…it’s a new teammate.”’

Watson leaned back in his chair. Of course it was a new teammate; it’d have to be, what with Sholto out. After that crash last year, the doctors said he would never mount a bike again. He’d managed to stay out of the media once he’d stabilized and been transferred to a rehabilitation facility. It’d been a big hit for the team in terms of the Tour and fears for their own safety out there. Few teams in recent years had been as cohesive as Speedy’s; the idea of bringing in someone new was hard enough, but—

“‘This close to the Prologue, though? Why can’t the other guys know? And why didn’t you just ring me about it?”’

“‘John, it’s…”’

Watson waited, stir stick tapping against his saucer now. He heard the woman next to him mutter a curse as she scooped up her laptop and walked off. Some people were just grumpy, he supposed. 

“‘John, it’s Sherlock Holmes.”’

It was Watson’s turn to curse under his breath. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes who rode the Tour ten years ago? Sherlock Holmes who left the race and the cycling world in a cloud of cocaine use allegations and rumors about a tryst gone bad with his own teammate? Sherlock Holmes whom no one had heard from since?

“‘Sorry Greg.”’ Watson blinked hard in an attempt to make sense of the news. “‘I thought you said Sherlock Holmes.”’

“‘You can’t tell anyone, mate. And sorry for laying it on you like this. There are more things beyond my control than I’d like, but I can assure you he’ll be riding clean and is physically fit for the job. Listen, I hate surprises as much as the next guy, but my hands are really tied with this one. I’m letting you know now because I anticipate I’ll need your help.”’

Watson ran a hand through his hair, short and light despite it only being late June. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d had to come out all this way to hear about this, but Lestrade always had reasons for what he did and he was usually right.

“‘Ok. Yeah, alright. Thanks for the heads up. Whatever you need, I’ll back you.”’

“‘Great.”’ A relieved smile flashed across Lestrade’s face as he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and stood to leave. “‘Now get yourself out of here before temptation wins the day.”’

“‘As if it ever could.”’ Watson nodded and returned the smile, waiting for the door to close behind Lestrade before moving to add his cup and saucer to the mounting pile of dirty china above the trash bin behind him.

“‘Ceramic,”’ intoned a deep voice behind him.

“‘Pardon?”’ Watson asked, furrowing his brow but not turning.

“‘The dining ware isn’t china. It’s ceramic.”’

Watson stepped toward the bin, tossing in his stir stick and paper napkin before precariously balancing his ceramic cup and saucer on the returns shelf. 

“‘Are you my conscience?” ’he asked, laughing lightly as his own joke and holding up pleading hands in front of his mug until he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be the one to send the whole lot tumbling to the floor.

“‘Unlikely. Though I suppose we’ll see how the early stages go.”’

Early stages? Watson turned slowly, eyebrows rising and jaw dropping as recognition dawned. Holy hell, you’re—

“‘Sherlock Holmes, yes. Kind of you to remember me, though perhaps the memory you’re recalling is not in itself so kind.”’

“‘What are you doing here?”’ Watson looked around suspiciously, feeling as though he ought to be paranoid though he didn’t know what he might be trying to spot. 

“‘Seeing as how it is a coffee shop, one might suppose I stopped in to purchase coffee. And as much as I do hate to be predictable, in this particular case, that supposition would be the correct one.”’

“‘Well yeah, ok, but I mean why are you here, in this coffee shop? Now?”’

“‘I take it an odd experience has befallen you in the past hour—no, half hour—and you haven’t yet processed whatever it is. News of some kind, I should imagine. However, blocking the bins with your jaw wagging like a goldfish, while apparently a natural choice for you, is in fact not typically the most productive one.”’

“‘Oh, sh—sorry, I’m very sorry,”’ Watson said to the miniature queue of patrons waiting to deposit their china.

“‘Ceramic,”’ Holmes noted impatiently. “‘Sit down at that set of chairs there. The place is emptying, I should return with my order in three minutes.”’ He cast a glance at the register. “‘Four, it’s the cashier’s first day.”’

Watson didn’t see him walk away, nor did he feel himself cross back to the small dining area and settle into a surprisingly uncomfortable armchair. It was impossible. Sherlock Holmes had been missing from the public eye, from the entire world as far as he knew, for nearly a decade. Now within minutes of being told the man had spontaneously resurrected to join Team Speedy’s/Sussex Honey, here he was in the flesh. Watson looked around the cafe. He didn’t believe in magic or kismet or any of those mystical type things. After forty years of life, he was sure he’d know by now if there were weird crystal-swinging forces at play. But what were the odds?

“Three thousand seven hundred and eighteen.” The tap of a paper cup on the low table by his elbow punctuated Holmes’s statement. “‘Of course that’s not the actual percentage chance of us encountering each other here and now, simply the approximate number of coffee shops available assuming we were both entering one at the same time.”’

“‘That’s one massive coincidence.”’ Watson eyed Holmes in the chair beside him, sipping slowly at his own paper cup’s contents. 

“‘The universe is rarely so lazy, or so Big Brother says.”’

“‘Big Brother?”’ Watson was now only ninety percent certain he wasn’t in a movie. Or a simulation. Or whatever the thing was you were supposedly inside of. 

“‘My big brother, Mycroft. Though if he had it his way, the capital letters would be spot on. The chances of us meeting here are slim indeed, but there’s something more…why is it you—oh. I see.”’

“‘You see?”’

“‘You’ve only just found out that we’re more than distant former colleagues of a sort. Quite the coincidence after all, then.”’ Holmes took another long sip of his drink. “‘Do make a start on that before it goes cold,”’ he instructed, pointing at Watson’s cup. “‘Wasting it would be a crime.”’

Heat radiated through Watson’s palm as he wrapped his hand around the cup. The scent of fresh coffee reached him halfway to his mouth, allowing him a moment to brace himself. He never was able to drink it black, but this was hardly the time to cause offense. He could almost hear Holmes smirking from a foot away. He can’t really read minds, I must have some rude look on my face. Wouldn’t have to if he’d only asked before he went ahead and ordered for me. Haven’t even properly introduced ourselves yet.

“‘You’ll have to trust me sometime. Might as well start with my impeccable taste in coffee.”’

“‘Right, yeah. Thanks. Cheers.”’ Watson took a careful sip. Then another. Whatever this was dancing across his tongue was like no coffee he’d ever tasted. He tipped his head back a moment, unsure whether he wanted to consume it all instantly or draw it out as long as it would last.

“‘You’re not being shipped to a desert island, it’s only the Tour de France. You can have another one of these in hand in a matter of weeks.”’

“‘This is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life. This…what even is this?”’ He strained to see the board over his shoulder. “‘That Tanzania blend thing?”’

Holmes scoffed. “‘As if a blend of the day could produce such a depth of flavor. No, John—may I call you John?”’

Watson nodded. Day was already weird, why not. 

“‘No, John, this is not a blend. Look at the wall behind the baristas, over to the left.”’

“‘I didn’t even see that before,” ’Watson said, squinting at a large apparatus. 

“‘You do see, but you do not observe. That,”’ Holmes gestured with the cup in his hand, “‘produces this. Kyoto Slow, by name.”’

“‘How does all that even work?”’

“‘Perhaps if we both make it home from Paris,”’ Holmes said, sighing into another sip, “‘I’ll walk you through it.”’

------------- //irl author's note: Kyoto Slow is an awesome Mystrade fic, highly recommend. read on AO3.

[antihibikase2]

His body gives out at the end of the battle- though he's had an eternity to prepare himself for the worst, at the end of the day, his own hubris was what lead to his downfall.

Slumped against his fainted Metagross, tired from the Mega Evolution and the lengthy battle it had with the Hero of Ideals' party, Nikolai holds his gloveless hand up to the sky- and sees the cracks forming on his skin.

He didn't have medical supplies here in the Frigate.

Even if he did, no one here would know how to heal him.

And he wouldn't let them touch him either- not Ghetsis, not his goons, not anyone.

"Whoa," The young hero takes a step forward, his ridiculous haircut blown to an absurd degree. "You're breaking."

He would have lunged at him then and there.

He wasn't the strongest, especially not with the way his body was now- but surely, he had the strength to overpower a mere child.

He wants nothing more than to sink into the earth when Nate crouches to his level, hesitating whether he should lift the other's face or not-

He hears the ringing of an Xtransceiver. It's swiftly picked up by the oldest of the trio.

"Uncle Grimsley? We're at the Plasma Frigate,"

And it was Grimsley calling. Great.

Nikolai shuts his eyes as Hugh makes a hasty report of the situation.

He'd place his faith in Ghetsis to turn the situation around- but with the way this hero fought, with none of the grace or the decorum of the Hero of Truth..

Fifty-fifty.

"Grunts are out in the forest and at the outskirts of Humilau. The gym leaders are keeping them busy. Um, some of the former Plasma members, they're keeping Zinzolin and his brigade at bay."

Zinzolin would fall easily- that old fool had the ambition, but none of the means, at least, not without him.

"Security's down. We got Yancy and Curtis' help for those. Big sis Bianca and Hilda are dealing with everything else inside."

And so they were- the eyes that Nikolai took in for his own means predictably turned against him, while the children he tutored two years ago were sabotaging his plans with skills they learned from the doctor himself.

Perhaps he played the role of a doctor too well.

"Big bro Cheren was captured on the way. Shadow Triad. They're using him to lure us into the Giant Chasm."

Of course they were- wherever The Heart was, the heroes were to follow.

He had given those three explicit orders to not harm him. Half of his heart was still in tact- he could still be useful, regardless of whose hands he fell into.

Not Nikolai's, perhaps. Not when they were crumbling.

"Please, send help over, I think the doctor's going to die."

His eyes opened slightly, though his gaze remained lowered.

"Rosa, Rosa," Nate was talking this time- the little brat had finally made up his mind, and tilted Nikolai's head upwards. "He- he looks like he's cracking, what do we do?"

"Um," Rosa was as resourceful as the other three- and a little brighter. She's more gentle with her approach, pressing down against the pieces to prevent more from falling. "Hughy, the- the lacquer,"

How does she-?

"Yancy said so. The doctor has lacquer in the league's clinic. It's what keeps him together."

"Got it," He parrots the information to Grimsley on the call- and lets out a sigh of relief as he ends it. "They're on their way. They said we can keep on going."

"To the chasm?"

"Yeah."

"Are we really going to leave him here?"

Please don't.

"If you simply must go," He manages to hiss between his teeth- a part of his cheek falls off. "Then leave. There's nothing for you to do here."

The trio looks at each other- Rosa decides to be defiant. "Um, yeah there is. This Mega Evolution doohickey-"

"You'll learn it from someone else."

"Or the fact that you're the same doctor from the legends-"

"You'll piece things out together."

"You're literally breaking apart- how does that happen?!"

"Stop-"

Another part falls off.

Nate and Rosa pull away in horror, recoiling at the sight.

"-stalling for time. Stupid, reckless, noisy children-"

He remembers the face of The Hero of Truth- he was just as naive, when Nikolai tried to dissuade him from taking on the league; not when Team Plasma was leading him to a trap.

Maybe if he had listened, he wouldn't have lost his heart.

"-don't you have your mentor to rescue?"

"...shit."

"Hey! Language!"

"Fuck that, we need to move, now!"

"But what about the doctor?!"

For the love of-

"Can't you brats leave me to die in peace?! The least you can do is be quiet!"

More parts of his skin slides off- and when he looks up after his outburst, he sees the pitiful faces of three sad heroes, children who clearly bit off more than they could chew.

Rosa glances at Hugh, the eldest, the most mature- but all he could give her is the same quizzical look, unsure and uncertain.

Until Nate, uncharacteristically quieter than he's ever been, whispers "I don't want you to die."

Nikolai doesn't care what he wants.

He's doomed either way, regardless if Ghetsis wins or not.

"I don't want you to die. I- I can't let you die, Doctor Colress-"

One of his eyes gives out- the right one. He doesn't know how it looks to the children.

"I'm- I'm a hero, I can't let you die, I promised I wouldn't let anyone die-"

His head lowers again- and with his glare off of him, Nate starts blubbering.

"I said I was gonna save people, like Hilbert- and I was gonna make 'em smile-!"

He slumps back against his Metagross- Rosa and Hugh try to keep him up.

"What kind of hero would I be if I let you die?! 's not like you deserve it, even after everything-!"

Liar.

Truly, he was deserving of his title- an irritatingly naive child in denial was the only one fit to be The Hero of Ideals after all.

"So I'm not gonna let you die, okay?! I'm not! That-"

The noises he was making, the whirring of the machines, the emergency alarms-

"-I won't let that be my truth!"

Everything starts ringing as his consciousness begins to fade.

...

Nikolai's eyes open- but he finds that his right eye has gone completely dark.

He doesn't feel anything; not the freezing temperatures of the climate, not the warmth of the body pressed against his-

He realizes he's wrapped in a familiar coat; not his own white labcoat, but an elegant, navy blue blazer.

"I've collected the pieces,"

"Thank you, Caitlin,"

Rarely does Shauntal conceal her excitement- this was one of those moments.

"I've prepared the adhesive as well."

"Thank you so so much, Marshal- we'll handle things from here. Go help out Mister Alder."

"Caitlin, you go too."

"Do not order me around-"

"Grimsley's right," The smaller of the two looks at Marshal with a look of disbelief. "Your talents are needed somewhere else- we need to keep the ice from spreading outside the chasm."

Caitlin could argue with Grimsley, and even Shauntal- but not Marshal.

She glances at Nikolai's body one last time before she gives in, floating out of the Frigate and into the deck.

As soon as Marshal leaves, Shauntal begins to focus on her work- all while Nikolai finds himself eye-to-eye with Grimsley, the one whose body he was now slumped against.

He's unable to speak- his throat feels like it's been stuffed with shards of dried clay.

But he doesn't need to say anything; not when Grimsley looks down at him, betrayed by his actions and his own feelings.

[kuschelkissen]

And more polyshipweek stuff. Prompts by @polyshipweek

This one is kinda sad-ish, idk. Also has some non-canon characters involved

GROWING OLD

"How is he?"

Yui raised her head as she closed the door behind her, smiling weakly at the younger woman. "He's sleeping now. Don't worry, Takako."

"But I do worry." Slowly she got closer, finally embracing her. "Seeing him break down like this... and then finding out it happened before! Mum, why didn't you tell me! Why didn't anyone of you tell me??"

"We didn't want to worry you. The doctor said it's just some slight form of fatigue, and that it just happens sometimes when people get older."

"He's not that old yet!"

With a sigh, Yui held her daughter tightly. "He's not that young anymore either, Takako."

Takako burried her head in Yui's shoulder. "I don't like it. I want Kosuke and Yuji to have a lot more time with their grandpa!"

"And what makes you think they won't?" could be heard from the door, as Kansuke in his wheelchair was pushed inside the living room by a young man. "Just 'cause Koumei is a bit weak on his legs these days doesn't mean he's gonna die tomorrow, ya know?" He grinned, patting his left leg with his hand. "I've been weak on my legs for decades now and look at me, I'm burstin' with life!"

Takako rubbed her face, then smiled slightly. "You're built differently, Dad" she said as she came closer, kissing the young man behind the wheelchair on the cheek. "Are they sleeping now?"

"Yes, honey. Though it took your dad telling them about all the stuff your father survived without a scratch to calm them down." He scratched his cheek. "Not sure if they were impressed or more scared there for a moment."

"See?!" Kansuke said, grabbing the wheels and pushing himself towards Yui now. "He'll be fine, just like always."

Yui bent down to kiss him. "Yes, he will."

~

Later that evening, when Takako and her little family had fallen asleep in the guestrooms upstairs, Yui had quietly pushed Kansuke's wheelchair into the bedroom, to not wake Taka'aki. In the dim light that fell inside from the lights outside the window, he still looked terribly pale, paler than usual, and the grey hair almost seemed white. "He's gonna be okay, right?" she whispered as she helped Kansuke out of his chair.

"Of course he will" Kansuke mumbled back, leaning onto her. "There's no way he's gonna go before me."

It made her smile, but also realise how vastly different these two had always been. Kansuke had been handicapped for almost 40 years now and he had always dealt with it pretty well. Even when he had had to resort to using the wheelchair five years ago, he had just taken it as is. Sure, he hadn't been happy about it, but he hadn't fallen into despair over it.

His beard had been patchy with grey areas for a while now, same with his hair, making him look older when he had not even been in his fifties yet, but he had just taken it with humour. "Listen to your elders!" he had loved to proclaim at work, making the newbies doublecheck on his actual age more than once.

Taka'aki on the other hand had kept his deep black hair even when Yui was already trying to hide her grey streaks with dye. So when it had finally turned grey, it went incredibly quickly and it had done something to him.

It wasn't that he feared or hated turning old. But it was the realisation that he had by now outlived all of his family, that pulled him down. The thought that his little brother, not even his parents were allowed to grow old, to get grey and wrinkly, had taken some of the joy from his eyes.

It wasn't like he had lost his will to live, he was still able to smile and enjoy life. Especially when their daughter came for visits with the twins and the house got all noisy and lively. Their little family had always filled him with so much joy. Maybe because he had lost his own so early in life.

But it was obvious that aging didn't go as smoothly for him as it did for Kansuke.

Yui helped Kansue to sit on the bed. "I just feel like he's tired lately" she said lowly while changing into her pyjamas. "Not sleepy, just... tired."

"He turned 70 last month, of course he's tired." Kansuke smiled crooked. "Even I didn't like how that number looked on my birthday cake earlier this year. At this age it's more apparent than ever that we're just old men next to our young and energetic wife."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. That never stopped either of you~"

"You know", a low voice came from the other side of the bed, "my eyesight is getting worse each day, but unfortunately I can still hear you just fine."

"Taka'aki, you're awake!"

"Unfortunately, I am." With a groan Taka'aki sat up, rubbing his face. "Is it night already...? How long was I out?"

"Careful" Kansuke said, reaching out for him, only to lower his hand again, when Taka'aki didn't sway. "About four hours."

"I must have scared the children."

"You scared everyone" Yui said, huffing her cheeks a bit. "I'm just glad Minoru-kun was there to catch you!"

"Ah, apologies. I did not mean to scare anyone."

"Good. Then stop doing it!" Yui sat on the bed now, too, looking at him with pleading eyes. "No more fainting, okay?"

Taka'aki smiled tiredly at her. "I will try my best."

"Good" Kansuke said and lay down. "Now, everyone shut up and sleep. Playing entertainer for these little rascals is exhausting and we have another day of that coming."

Yui rolled her eyes affectionately, then snuggled up against him, reaching out over him for Taka'aki, who finally lay down on the other side of Kansuke with a sigh. "Good night, my beloved old men~"

"Sleep tight, young lady."

"Oh shut up, both of you."

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Together Forever: "ALN" Story (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Three:

Sitting there beside each other, Steve was sure that he'd never been happier. Even if he was just sitting there next to his mate, watching their loved ones dance to the upbeat songs. Occasionally, their loved ones would wave at them when their gazes locked. Some had even made a pitstop at their table to make small chit chat about their anniversary and marriage.

"Thanks for having me," Oliver half-teased. The fifty-two year old clinked his coupe glass of champagne against his fathers'. "Of course, I am kinda the reason all of this is possible. So, you're welcome."

"Glad to see you didn't let it go to your head," Bucky fondly mocked.

"I can't believe I was in utero the first go around," Finn chuckled, clearly feeling the effects of the champagne.

"Yeah, that was a while ago," Steve agreed, remembering the all too familiar flutters in his abdomen. As soon as he was unable to experience that special bond anymore, he missed it. Longed for it. It was always his favorite part of being pregnant. Just him and his wombmates.

"You can admit it," Kit encouraged. Playfully bumping their shoulder against their fathers' as they teased, "I'm the favorite. You can say it."

Bucky tilted his head back to bark out a laugh while Steve shoved the younger alpha's broad shoulder, "You're a goof. Just like your father."

Of course, that only made the alpha beam when compared to the other guest of honor. It was a compliment, after all. For any of their kids to be like their alpha father would be a compliment.

"Well?" Cori asked, pressing her lips together as she assessed the men's reactions. Assuming, "It's too much, isn't it? I knew it would be too much, but I just got so excited! I mean, how many people get to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary?"

Although it wasn't exactly their taste, they knew that their kids did all of this to show how much they meant to them. And there was no way that they were going to tell her that it was too much. Not after such a heartfelt gesture.

Exhaling, Cori's expression started to fall as she admitted, "Mikey tried to tell me I was going overboard, but I got so excited. And you know how I get when I'm excited. I don't know how to not go all-in. You know this and –"

"It's great," Steve quickly assured, not wanting his daughter to feel anything but their love and appreciation today. "Really, sweetie! We love it!"

Smiling, she looked over to her alpha father, waiting for his input. And because they had always been a team – especially when it came to their children – Bucky didn't deny that they, in fact, loved the party. "Thanks, sweet pea. It's really amazing."

Sniffling, Ian wrapped the happy couple in his arms. Too emotional to say anything, but that was okay, Steve and Bucky got it. Really, they were just as emotional as the alpha hugging them. Never realizing that their family was missing something until he stepped into their lives all those years ago. Now they couldn't imagine their lives without him.

"I can only hope that Marc and I last as long," Nevie smiled, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

"We hope so too, sweetheart," Bucky confirmed, hugging the forty-three year old.

Steve nodded his agreement and took his turn of hugging her, "We really, really do."

"Come dance with us," Bitsy insisted, wiggling her fingers of her outstretched hands at the two of them.

Steve looked at Bucky. He knew that his husband enjoyed dancing. Hell, Steve had even promised him in his vows that he'd always dance with him. But Bucky knew Steve just as well – if not better – as Steve knew him.

So, Bucky started to decline, "That's okay, sweet pea, maybe –"

"Nonsense," Steve interrupted his loving, kind, and well-meaning husband. Standing, he allowed Bitsy to assist him, so he could extend his own hand to the alpha sitting beside him. "Let's go show 'em how to dance."

Bucky beamed up at him, and Steve knew that he'd never cease to be amazed by the alpha and how much he loved him. It made everything in Steve feel warm and fuzzy like he was wrapped in cashmere. It also made him hope that he never lost that feeling. And since they were well over the hill and celebrating fifty years of marriage, Steve found relief that he never would.

Taking his hand, Bucky led them out on the dance floor. Whooping and hollering, their grandkids cheered now that their pawpaw and pappy were out there with them. Steve chuckled as though they were partying in the Roaring 20s. The 1920s, not to be confused with the 2020s when Steve and Bucky had gotten married.

"Go pawpaw! Go pawpaw!" Cordelia's oldest daughter, Claudia encouraged as her siblings and cousins watched their omega grandfather shimmy and shake with the best of 'em. Well, the best of 'em that were of a certain age and had never had a hip replaced.

Bucky, always being the more graceful of the two, showed off some of his fancy moves. Spinning Kit and Leigh-Anne's oldest daughter, Everly, out before spinning her back into him. The twenty-two year old inherited her omega mother's looks, but she, unfortunately, inherited her omega grandfather's rhythm. Stumbling over her feet just like Steve usually did.

When she almost fell after tripping, Everly was thankfully caught by her cousin. Ian's middle kid, Dezzy, laughed it off and helped her regain her balance. Of course, that left Bucky open for someone else to dance with him. And because their kids and grandkids loved to dance with the alpha patriarch of the family, he wasn't left by himself for too long. Instead, Ollie's youngest son, Nash, took his cousin's place. Giggling up a storm when the alpha dipped him.

"Okay folks," the DJ announced over the opening chords of their song started. "Let's take it back for the guests of honor."

Do do doop dum

Do do doop do doop da dum

Bucky extended his hand for Steve, bringing the petite omega into him while the memories washed over him. In the car after Steve met the Barnes family for the first time. Chosen on the jukebox at the White Wolf bar after their first big fight. And their first dance at their wedding.

Despite it not being the slower cover that had played fifty years ago, the alpha still pulled Steve close, swaying them to the song. Bucky kissed Steve's forehead and then his lips. Steve closed his eyes and rested his head on Bucky's still-broad shoulder. Steve knew that for as long as he lived, he'd always remember this moment too, just like he had with all the other times they'd danced to this song, their song.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

BAD FATHERS - Chapter 8

Mavis

Naylan and I started meeting at the riverside often.

I was concerned that I would have to explain not wanting others to see us together too much but he took the initiative without me having to ask.

I was a little embarrassed that he was drawing those conclusions, even though he was correct about me not wanting to take things too seriously.

Something I learned about Naylan as I got to know him better was that he was mature.

When he had first met,and even long after that, the fact that he was so young and running a pack that was more than two hundred and fifty wolves strong, baffled me but the talks we had as we skipped stones let me into his thought process and mind for bits at a time.

"You keep mentioning your brother," I said out of the blue as we stared down at the river a few meters away from us.

We were both sitting on a mat I had brought along with me.

We had been talking for a bit and Naylan had gone on a tangent about his brother.

"Yeah," he shrugged his shoulders, resting his hands on his raised knees before looking at me from the side of his eyes.

"Is that a problem?"

"No," I muttered looking down at my feet.

We had kicked off our shoes and placed them by the red-brown mat.

"It's just that I don't see a lot of people talking about their siblings fondly, that's all."

Naylan hummed.

"Maybe it's because we've only gotten to know each other recently. If I had childish spats with him when I was younger, I would probably not be as fond of him," Naylan reasoned licking his lips.

"Or maybe I would be. Adyen's great. I used to worry about him a lot because he's recessive,but his mate has everything under control, so I had to give him space and back off a bit," Naylan explained, resting back on the mat.

Some of his hair picked up sand at the edge of the mat but he didn't seem to mind.

He turned to his side, giving me a warm look before asking.

"Do you have siblings?"

I shook my head.

"No."

A sigh left my lips.

"It's just me, my Mother and my Grandfather," I explained, moving to lie down on the mat too.

Naylan stayed quiet for a while as if he was overthinking something.

"Can I ask something?"

"Sure," I said, scooting closer so that our legs touched.

We had been talking a lot and maybe sometimes I would let my hand linger on his shoulder but even after what I had said before, I hadn't mustered up the courage to kiss him.

I knew he was treading lightly and wouldn't do it himself, so it was going to be up to me at some point.

"Where's your dad?" he asked in a low tone.

At first, my brows knitted together in irritation.

I wasn't angry at Naylan... no, I just hated thinking about my father.

I hadn't known him too well but the little I knew about him annoyed me.

He wasn't an evil monster or anything but the fact that he had chosen his pack over my mother was something I couldn't sit with, especially when I looked into my mum's eyes when she talked to me about mates and life partners.

They mirrored deep sadness.

Her deep brown eyes were filled with hurt and her lips were always arched in a forced smile anytime the conversation was brought up.

"My father's a werewolf," I said, repeating what Naylan knew already.

"He met my Mum when his pack was in the middle of migrating. When my Mother got pregnant, he offered her the chance to follow him back to his pack and she said no because she wanted to be around to take care of my Grandfather."

I stopped talking, licking my lips.

"So, he shrugged his shoulders and left. That's all."

"Oh."

Naylan blinked, resting on his back and looking up at the sky.

"He hasn't contacted you since?"

"My mum tried to call his number a few years ago but of course it had already changed," I explained, letting out a sigh.

For some reason, I wasn't as worked up as I thought it would be.

Naylan wasn't being dramatic about it and he wasn't pushing too hard, so I guess it was okay to talk to him about it.

"You know, I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to be mad about it," I said after a while of silence.

"If he'd stayed with my mum, it would be like she had taken him away from his pack, the same way I think it's a terrible idea to have asked her to leave her only relative," I mumbled, letting my thoughts out.

I didn't get a lot of chances to talk about this in a non-emotionally intensive situation, so my lips kept moving on their own, wanting Naylan to know all about the thing that bothered me the most in life.

"That's true," Naylan said.

"A wolf is nothing without a pack."

He turned his head and there was a look in his eyes that told me he was about to reveal something to me.

"Even when we're Rogues, we form pseudo-pack groups. We're communal," he went on.

"You know, I've always wanted to form my own pack... a proper one," he said, crossing his hands over his chest.

"I grew up with my mum taking care of me and we went through a lot of pseudo-packs that disbanded as quickly as they formed. Lack of proper leadership and the lack of space for building communities were one of the biggest factors why they burst like a bad business..." he trailed off.

"So, I came to Toronto where I could find space. I would have gone to Newfoundland but my dad is there..." he paused again and his mouth hung open for a bit.

He seemed to be gauging if he had told me too much.

"What happened to your Mum and Dad?" I asked.

So far, I knew that his parents weren't together anymore since his brother was only a half-brother.

He had never explained why, though.

"You don't have to tell me if it's too personal..." I said in a low tone when he scrunched you his face in what seemed like an unpleasant memory.

His discomfort made my chest twinge with concern.

Seeing him like that was upsetting to me and I was saddened by the fact that my question was what caused him to be like this.

"It's okay," he said, letting out a sigh before sitting up on the mat.

"It was just a bad relationship and they broke up before I was born,but when my dad heard I was an Alpha too he wanted me back, so his pack was after us for a good while."

The casualness to his tone, only made the sad story stand out more.

My eyes went wide and my lips parted.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, sitting up too.

"That must have been hard."

"Yeah..." he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Though, I haven't seen him in years. I had a clash with his pack when I was moving here but I haven't heard from him since," Naylan said, licking his lips.

"I'm glad to be here. Ontario's pretty nice," he changed the conversation, humming as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah, it is," I agreed even though I've never been outside of Ontario,or even outside of this city... heck, I barely wandered past the woodland coyote territories.

We remained quiet for a bit, occasionally locking our eyes before one of us looked away.

We listened to the running water and the sound of birds flying past us up above and then I got the sudden urge to say something.

"I'm glad that we're disclosing stuff to each other," I said, not sure where I was taking the conversation to.

"When I talked about my Dad, I was a little worried that I was oversharing, and when you spoke about yours, I felt a bit relieved," I admitted.

"Thanks."

Naylan shrugged his shoulders.

"There's nothing to thank me for, I felt the same," he said before his gaze moved to stare at the water.

"Hey, didn't you say you had to catch some fish before you left?" he asked me, changing the conversation as he reminded me that I had used that as an excuse to head out for a few hours.

"I did," I said, scrambling up from the mat before unzipping my bag.

"You can leave, I think I'll be here for a while," I said as I took out the pair of rubber croc shoes.

I rolled up my trousers and headed to pick up the fishing rod I had laid against a stone mount a distance away.

"Aren't you leaving?" I asked as I approached the river.

Naylan was still sitting on the mat.

He shook his head before cupping his hands around his mouth to serve as a mini microphone.

"It's not that late. I think I'll start heading back at seven," he announced.

"Okay then," I said, looking away from him before casting the hooked bait with my fishing rod.

We didn't talk to each other much for the next hour and a half because of the distance we kept but the knowledge that he was a walking distance away warmed up my insides and pleased my wolf.

I had adjusted the conditions of our interactions on a whim but I did prefer it.

Being able to talk to him and build a friendship over time felt more comfortable than the hormone-fueled instant romance that I had been afraid of.

[eratolasting]

Safe (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend, Eddie, doesn't understand why you wont let him touch you.

Warnings: Mentions and brief description of rape, smut, grinding, unprotected sex, soft Eddie.

Beta Reader(s): @hargroveharlot @hellfiremunsonn

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

You could still feel him. Everywhere. On your breasts, inside of you. His sweaty hands holding your wrists together above your head as you fought, and fought, and fought. You bucked your hips and tried to get away from him, but it was to no avail. At some point, you gave up. You laid there, lifeless, and took what he gave you as he ripped your insides to shreds. Yet you were numb. You had to be, and when he was done he tossed fifty bucks at you, for plan b he’d said. Because that’s what he was worried about. 

An hour later, you picked yourself up, put on your clothes, and went to the store to buy said plan b. The last thing you needed was to get pregnant. 

That was almost a year ago now, and you still struggled with nightmares. You still struggled with letting people touch you; struggled to not flinch when someone squeezed you too hard in a hug. You especially struggled in your relationship with Eddie. He knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. You didn’t want to tell him, either. Thankfully, you had been early in your relationship and hadn’t had sex before this happened, so you never had been expected to just go back to sex normally. Some days it was hard, though. Eddie didn’t know why you didn’t want to have sex with him -- you always stopped it before it got too far.

Currently, you were on top of him, your lips pressed against his as his hand ran through your hair, your bodies firmly laid together. His hand traveled from your head to your back and slowly slid further and further down your body until it rested on your ass. You broke the kiss and lifted his hand from your ass up to your lower back, and he frowned up at you.

“Look, sweetheart. I’m not trying to pressure you, ever, but you’ve been a cocktease for months. Do you just not like me or something?” 

“Eddie… it’s not… you, okay?” You responded, shifting to get out of his lap. “There’s just… a lot.” You sighed.

“Honey, if you don’t want to be with me, that’s okay. And I’m not saying that we have to have sex to be together, I just… You’re always making excuses and stopping me and nothing’s really adding up anymore.” He sat up, and looked at you fully. “I know you want me, baby. I’ve been able to feel how wet you get…” 

You bit your lip and folded your hands in your lap. Okay, so maybe it was time to have this conversation. 

“It’s really not you, Eddie, just…” You trailed off and brushed some hair behind your ear. “Remember back in September? Right after we started dating? There was a week or so that I didn’t see you because I was too busy with work.” 

“Yeah, I remember that.” He nodded, “You were so tired. I felt bad." 

"I wasn't working." You told him, quickly. "I mean, I did go into work some of the days, but.. that's not why I wasn't seeing you." 

He looked at you, confused. "You lied to me? Why?" 

"Because it was easier than telling you the truth…" you sighed, and brushed your fingers through your hair. "I want to tell you now, though."

He nodded, patient. "Okay… tell me."

You took a deep breath and sat there in silence with him for a good long while, trying to muck up the courage to speak. Your lips parted, and closed, and parted, and closed. You wet them. Finally, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it.

"I just want to start off by saying it's not your fault. Okay? And…and I don't want you to think anything of me not telling you other than I wasn't ready to. I just -" you paused for a moment, taking another breath, "I was… I was raped, Eddie." 

You stopped, wanting to let that sink in with him. You didn't want to give him too much information; to overload him with it. 

His brow furrowed, and he lifted your hand softly in his, looking down at it. He didn't say anything for a long while, just rubbed his thumb softly against your skin. 

"I'm…fuck," he looked away from you, tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. I should've been there…I should've-"

"Hey, stop. It's not your fault, Eddie." You tilted his head towards you with a gentle hand, and brushed your thumb beneath his eye. "None of it was your fault or ever will be. Got that? It was just some asshole, and…I’m okay now. I have you.” 

Of course, you weren’t fully ‘okay’. It would be a long time before you were, but you still felt safe with him. 

“We don’t have to do anything ever, okay? I’ve got a hand to keep me satisfied.”

You laughed at that and kissed him softly. “I know, baby. But I’m okay, really… I just need you to be patient and slow with me, okay?” You rubbed your thumb against his cheek. 

“Yes, of course, absolutely. We can stop anytime.” He responded, giving you a soft smile that just ate you the fuck up.

So you climbed back on top of him and kissed him deeply, your hands cupping his cheeks and his resting on your waist. You sat like that for another long while, just kissing each other and enjoying each others company. 

Your hands were the ones to travel this time, sliding down from his cheeks to his chest, his abdomen, and finally reaching his belt. You were slow, a little fumbly as you pulled leather through the handcuff buckle, your lips still pressed against his. You slid his belt through the loops and tossed it away. 

He broke the kiss to look at you, lifting a hand up to cup your cheek. “Are you sure?” He asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, your fingers plucking his jeans open and unzipping them. “I’m sure, Eddie.” 

He bit his lip and shifted, reaching down to hook his fingers in his shirt. He pulled it up over his head and chucked it across the room to be dealt with later. His hands slid over your sides as your lips met again in another heated kiss, and his fingers inched up your shirt slightly. 

You lifted your arms for him, the kiss breaking for only a moment so he could throw your shirt off, too. Your lips pressed back together in a soft kiss, and gently he turned you so you laid on your back. 

His lips trailed to your jaw, then your neck. His hand softly cupped your breast in hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You hadn’t been beneath anyone since.. “Eddie? Can I be on top, please?” You asked him, swallowing thickly as your heart beat thumped in your throat.

“Yes, yeah, of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He practically jumped off of you the moment you said something. 

You bit your cheek and wiggled your jeans off, letting them fall to the floor before you straddled his waist. His hand slid back up to cup your breast again, his eyes devouring you in nothing but a pair of thin panties. 

“You’re…so gorgeous.” He breathed out, licking his lips.

You placed your hands on his chest and slowly grinded down on the hardened bulge in his jeans. He groaned softly as you closed your eyes and took another deep breath.

You wanted this, you really did. 

But that didn’t stop the bundle of nerves that were balled up inside of you. 

“Baby? Hey… You’re okay. You know we can stop anytime.” He was a little breathless from you grinding on him, and it was outrageously fucking hot.

You nodded, but you didn’t stop your movement. Instead, you grinded down a little harder; a little faster. Your head tipped back at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your clit over and over. 

You were soaking through your panties, easily. 

“Please, Eddie-” You finally whimpered, your fingers digging into his bare chest as you rubbed your pussy all over his clothed cock. “Please-” You didn’t know what you were asking for, exactly, but you wanted it so bad.

He grabbed your hips to still you and reached down to push his pants and underwear out of the way. His cock sprang free and you swallowed, seeing how big it actually was for the first time. 

He grabbed your hips again and settled you over it, looking you in the eyes as one hand reached down to push your panties aside. 

He was asking permission with those gorgeous fucking eyes of his.

You nodded, biting your cheek. 

He guided you down slowly, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. You blushed, your lips parting in a soft noise as he steadied you. Soon, you were sinking down on his cock. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him filling you up for the first time. It was so fucking good. Your mind was on nothing but him.  For once, it was nothing but him. 

You slid all the way down, your body flush with his, the both of you taking a breath as you adjusted to his length. Your pussy clenched around him a few times, getting used to him, and you hummed softly as he held your hips tightly. 

"Fuck, baby…so fuckin' tight for me.." he breathed, rubbing his thumbs over your hips. "So good, baby… you're doing so good…" he was almost babbling praises at you.

You bit your tongue and hesitantly rolled your hips, earning a groan from him. 

"Let me help you," he whispered, and took your weight in his hands, lifting you. Your pussy clenched at the loss of him, and you bit your lip as he helped you slide back down. 

It was so gentle, so sweet. He did it again, and again, finding a slow, sweet pace for you. 

You were moaning, so softly. You felt so full, so right and you wondered why you couldn't have given in and done this before. It was so good. 

"Love you…love you so much.." he whispered to you, his eyes on you as you bounced on his cock. 

"Love you, Eddie… faster, please!" You suddenly gasped out as you felt his cock brush against something inside you that you'd never felt before. 

You knew you wanted more of it, though. 

His guiding hands helped you to go faster, your skin slapping together a little louder in the room as his cock slammed into you. 

Your nails dug into his chest. He was hitting that spot over and over and you could feel your orgasm building up. You released a soft whine, a shiver taking over your body. 

"Eddie," you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut as you got closer and closer. 

"Ah-ah, look at me, baby. Keep your eyes open. Wanna see you cum."

You were breathing heavily as you opened your eyes, and the moment they met his, your orgasm washed over you, your mouth opening up as you moaned. Your pussy clamped down on his cock in an attempt to milk it.

Thankfully for it, he was cumming too, with a low groan. Sweat was beaded on his brow, matching yours. 

You panted in tandem, your movement stopping altogether as you rested down against him, allowing your chest to press against his. He kissed your hair and wrapped his arms tightly around you. 

"Thank you," he said. 

"No, baby.. thank you." You kissed his jaw. "Love you so much." You sighed. 

"Love you more, sweetheart."

. . . . . . . . . .

Tag list: @eddiemunsons-girl @spiderrrling @syddsatyrn @mayeddieandstevegf

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ San: The Calm After The Storm. (Oneshot)

Genre: angst, fluff, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Reader (fem)

Word count: 3.5k

Inspiration: Fifty Shades Freed

Warnings: profanities, alcohol, blood, guns, death, violence.

"What the fuck is this?!" you asked through gritted teeth, throwing the freshly printed photos at San's chest.

Your husband didn't have to look at them to know what you were talking about; his men had already reported to him that you watched the entire recording of him seducing his... target. 

"Babe—"

"No, San!" you yelled, cutting him off. "This is the fifth fucking time!"

"But the other one time wasn't about this."

"The other three, now four times were!" he was really getting on your nerves.

"Why are you overreacting?" he questioned with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, you knew I had no choice."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control your anger. "I understand that you had to seduce her. I know that it's your job," you tried to say calmly, but your voice was rising. "What I don't understand is why you let her slip her fucking hand into your pants after you got the damn information that you wanted!"

San visibly gulped; he didn't expect you to be this angry. He thought he was well prepared to face you after mentally forming the situation in his head. He knew you'd be pissed, but not to this extent.

"I pushed her away though," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, after like, five minutes," you retort. "And the worst part was that you were clearly enjoying yourself in those five minutes! Do you know her or something?"

San sighed deeply, ignoring the question. "Babe, look, I'm sorry," he apologized, not sure about what else he could say to calm you down. Your husband took your hand in his. "I won't do it again, I promise."

You immediately ripped your hand away from his, rolling your eyes. "That's what you always say, San." He took a deep breath; you were testing his patience and he didn't like people doing that.

"San," you start, "How would you feel if you saw a guy kissing me and I get carried away and let him touch me?"

That struck him. Hard. He would hate it, obviously. San wouldn't even hesitate to put a bullet through the man's head if he touched you in any way.

San's silence gave you the answer. "That's what I thought," you snorted.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," San apologized again. "But I still had to do it and you know that."

"Whatever," you mumbled and turned around, heading to your room; he still didn't understand just how much it hurt you. It was already worse enough that you had to witness him kiss and touch all those women. But witnessing San let another woman touch him in the place where only you're allowed to, not only pissed you off, but also hurt you deeply. As the seducer of the mafia gang, he was literally trained to not get carried away; his only job was to get whatever information was needed. San was a very, very skilled seducer and you knew that damn well. Although he did get carried away a few times, he never let his targets touch him. So you couldn't understand why he let that happen now. You texted Yunho (your bestfriend and San's close friend) to ask about that woman, knowing that he would never lie to you.

Your anger increased when Yunho replied: "Oh, she hooked up with San a couple of times back in high school." You snorted in annoyance; so he let her touch him just because he knew her?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone's notification going off. Your friends were planning to go clubbing tonight as it was a Saturday. You were going to decline, knowing that San wouldn't let you go if he wasn't with you, but you decided against it; you had a plan in mind and you knew it would work.

You ignored San the entire afternoon. He tried to talk to you but you didn't even spare him a glance. He sighed, leaving you alone to cool down.

-

"Where are you going?" San asked, looking at you from head to toe, while your four year old daughter, Minhee, played with some toy aeroplanes.

"Clubbing," you answered without looking at him.

"You're not going anywhere," San said through gritted teeth. "Especially not wearing that." You were wearing denim shorts and a black lace bralette that showed off your cleavage more than you'd usually prefer. You purposely chose this outfit, of course, and he knew that.

"You don't get to decide where I go and what I wear," you stated. You walked over to your daughter, placing a kiss on her head. "Minnie," you called her by her nickname. "Mommy will be back soon, okay?" you said to your little angel before walking out the door.

-

"Y/N! You finally came!" one of your friends yelled, already drunk. She takes your hand and drags you through the crowd of people to get to the bar on the other side. "Three tequila shots for my friend here!"

A while later, you noticed Wooyoung and Mingi at the entrance of the club; you knew San would end up here as soon as he asks Seonghwa or Hongjoong to look after your daughter for the night.

And you were right.

San entered the club, dressed in all black, looking fucking hot. You wanted to go up to him and ask him to fuck you till you see stars; however, you were still pissed and had a plan to execute.

You quickly downed your shots and pulled your friend to join your other friends who were dancing. You danced with them until one of your friends introduced you to some random guys. One of the guys, who you found really good looking, started to dance with you. You noticed San sitting on a barstool, watching everything. At that moment, the guy you were dancing with put his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him, making San nearly break the glass he was holding. Perfect. Your plan was working.

When you glanced at where San was seated, he wasn't there anymore. You glanced around, searching for him until you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, dragging you away.

San dragged you downstairs where there were private rooms especially for him and his gang members as they owned this club. He took you to the room belonging to him, locking the door behind him.

"What the fuck were you doing?! How could you let him even lay a finger on you?!" your husband snarled through gritted teeth.

You snorted. "All he did was put his hands on my waist. At least he didn't slip them into my pants and touch me."

San now understood exactly why you did that; you were giving him a taste of his own medicine.

You moved to sit on the sofa, your legs starting to hurt from dancing so much. San kneeled down in front of you, placing his hands on the bare skin of your thigh. "Babe, I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, I know. But please understand that chick meant nothing to me. I didn't even know her."

You pushed his hands away from you. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he lied.

"You hooked up with her in high school," you deadpanned.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He just fucked up again. "Y/N, I didn't mean to—"

You stood up from the couch. "No, fuck you, I'm done with you and your fucking bullshit," you snarled angrily, cutting him off, before making your way back to your friends.

"They might take this route instead, we can't predict what they'll do," Jongho said while moving around the meeting room; he was in charge of today's meeting on some mafia gang who had tried to hack into your gang's system to get information on your international drug deals.

During the meeting, your daughter's nanny called you. You declined the call, sending her a text that you were in a meeting. She called again and you ignored it, thinking she wouldn't have seen your message. When she called for the third time, you excused yourself from the meeting.

"I'm in a meeting, Jina, what is—"

"Mrs. Choi," she sobbed. "T-They took Minnie..."

"What?! Who?!" you felt your stomach churn uneasily.

"I-I don't know," Jina cried, "They beat me up at the park till I passed out and t-took her away. They said they would c-contact you."

"Where are you?" you asked.

"At a nearby hospital," she said. "An old couple brought me here."

"I'll be there in five," you said and hung up. You were just about to enter the meeting room, but an unknown number called you. You picked up, assuming it was your daughter's kidnappers since you never got calls from unknown numbers.

"You have a beautiful daughter, Choi Y/N," the man said. "I bet she would look even better with a slit throat, yeah?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" you asked, voice laced with venom.

The man chuckled. "It's simple, your fucking gang has to pay for my loss."

"Just tell me what the fuck you want!"

"Fifteen billion won in cash," he said. "That's the amount I lost because of you motherfuckers. Now listen to me carefully if you don't want your precious child dead. You aren't going to tell anyone about this. Not a word to your boss, Kim Hongjoong. Not a word to your pathetic husband, Choi San. I have eyes watching you, so don't try to act smart. I know you're having a meeting right now about a gang who tried to hack into your system." your eyes widened; how the fuck does this guy know? "I'm giving you three hours," he continued. "If you don't get the money within that time, I'll kill your daughter. Anyway, you'll find a black van waiting for you outside the bank. Your time starts now, Mrs. Choi. Tick tock, tick tock," he chuckled before hanging up.

"Fuck!" you yelled, tears spilling from your eyes. You ran your hand through your hair, trying to calm down; you felt like breaking down but you had to stay strong for your daughter. You wiped your tears before making your way back to the meeting room.

"I'm sorry, I'm feeling quite unwell," you mumbled, quickly collecting your stuff. "Please continue without me."

"Y/N, should I take you home?" San asked; you both still haven't made up from the fight you had a week ago. He tried to talk to you a few days ago, but it resulted in a bigger fight.

"No!" you half-yelled in frustration, startling some of the people in the room. "I'm fine," you said in a softer tone. You quickly left before San could follow you.

-

"Ah, Mrs. Choi, how can I help you?" the bank manager asked, taking a seat across you.

"I need fifteen billion won in cash," you stated, stunning the manager.

"Ma'am, that is a very large amount so cash isn't the best—"

"I need it in cash. It's really urgent," you said in an annoyed tone.

He gulped and nodded. "Please give me your national ID card."

You handed it to him, fiddling with your fingers while he entered your details into the computer system.

"You have a joint account with your husband, Choi San, correct?"

"Yes."

"Ma'am, we will need Mr. Choi's confirmation as he is the primary account holder."

You mentally cursed. "That won't be necessary," you stated, trying to control your anger.

The manager sighed. "All right, please give me a moment," he said before leaving the room.

You groaned in frustration, putting your head in your heads. You couldn't imagine what your little daughter was going through; you knew she would be scared to death. Your phone rang, interrupting your thoughts.

You declined the call when you saw it was your husband. When he called again, you had no choice but to pick it up, knowing he would keep calling you. "Hello?"

"Y/N, what are you doing? Why are you making such a huge transaction?" San questioned. You mentally cursed the bank manager for contacting San. "Y/N, answer me! What's wrong?" You just kept quiet, knowing you'd break down if you opened your mouth. You heard San take a deep breath. "Are you leaving me or something? Is this about the fights we've been having? I'm sorry about that, I know it was my fault and I don't deserve you, but please, let's talk about this," he begged, making your tears spill from your eyes. "Y/N, say something, please. Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," you whispered, choking on a sob.

"Baby, please," he begged. "Don't leave me. Please, I'm begging you."

"I'm sorry, San."

There was silence on his end before he sighed. "Okay, take all the money you want," he said and hung up.

A moment later, the manager came into the room. "Ma'am, Mr. Choi has given his permission for the transaction. The procedure for huge cash transactions are of course different, so I need you sign a few papers and write a cheque. It'll take a little over half an hour to get the money in cash."

-

As soon as you got the cash, you called your daughter's kidnappers. "I assume you've got the money?"

"Yeah," you replied.

"Good. You'll see a black van from across the entrance of the bank," he said and hung up.

You quickly made your way outside, easily spotting the van. You crossed the street and got into the van.

You couldn't recognize the driver and the other man in the passenger seat. Your daughter wasn't even here.

"Good job, Mrs. Choi," the man in the passenger seat said with a smirk; you recognized him as the guy on the call.

"Where's my child?"

"Relax," he grinned. "We're going to her right now." He glanced at the driver who nodded and started driving.

"Ah, give me your phone," the man said. "We don't need your husband tracking us." You hesitantly gave it and he switched it off.

After what felt like hours, you reached an old building. As soon as you got outside the car, you spotted your daughter tied to a wall, unconscious with a bleeding head.

"Minhee!" you yelled, running to her.

Before you could untie her, you felt an arm go around your neck, choking you. Even though you were trained to fight, you weren't the best at it. Nevertheless, you tried to free yourself. You kicked the man in the shin, making his grip around you loosen. You took that opportunity to bite his hand before turning around, punching him in the face. You kept punching him until two other men grabbed you. You managed to get one of them injured by repeatedly kicking his private area, but the other guy one was too strong. He easily picked you and threw you onto the concrete floor, making you bang your head and knee. You groaned in pain, feeling a warm liquid running down your face. You pushed yourself to get up despite the excruciating pain you felt. His gun was pointed at you while he smiled. "Have a great time in hell, Choi Y/N."

Suddenly, a gunshot was heard and the man dropped his gun, clenching his hand in pain. A few more gunshots were fired at him, instantly killing him.

"Y/N!" you heard San scream. He picked you up in his arms bridal style, and you got a glimpse of his teary eyes.

"Min-Minhee," you murmured, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Seonghwa's got her" was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

You slowly opened your ears, squinting due to the bright light. When your eyes adjusted, you realized you were in Yeosang's mini hospital at your gang's mansion. You turned your head to the side, spotting your husband reading some documents.

"San," you murmured, but it wasn't loud enough. "San," you raised your voice a little, coughing due to your extremely dry throat.

San immediately turned to you, eyes widening. "Y/N!" He quickly poured you a glass of orange juice since that was the first thing he saw. He helped you drink the juice, feeling so relieved to see you finally awake.

"How are you feeling, my love?" he asked, taking your hand in his.

"Where's Minhee?" you asked, panick clear in your eyes.

"Minnie is playing with Jongho and Yunho," San said, making you sigh in relief that your daughter was alive. "She's doing well. She got a few stitches, but it's healing quickly. Our daughter is very brave."

Your eyes teared up. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about—"

"Shh, don't," he cupped your cheek. "I understand why you did what you did, babe. I would've done that too. Anyway, we wiped out that entire gang and got the money back."

"What happened? How did you find me?"

"We killed all the four men and the other three who were hiding. One of them ran away to Japan, but Wooyoung and Mingi went there and killed him," San explained before getting a little nervous. "And um, don't be mad, but I put a tracker on your necklace."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Hey, see, it proved to be helpful!" he said, putting his hands up defensively.

Before you could reply, San placed his hand over your mouth. He took a deep breath while a wide smile spread on his face. "I also have some good news."

"What's the news?" you asked, voice muffled due to San's hand on your mouth. He opened his mouth to reply, but the door burst open, revealing your daughter.

"Mommy!" she squealed, running to your bed, trying to get onto the bed that was too high for her.

San picked his daughter up, placing her beside you. "Be careful, angel. Mommy is still recovering." The little girl nodded at her father before looking at you.

"How you feel, mommy?" she asked.

"Much better, now that you're here," you replied, tickling her chin. Your daughter giggled, moving away from you. She placed her little hands on your stomach.

"Come out fast so that we can play!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you glanced at San. "About that..." he chuckled, taking your hand in his. "We're having another baby. You're pregnant."

"W-What?" you gasped in shock. You and San had been trying to get another child for quite sometime now.

"Yeah," he giggled, kissing the back of your hand. "You're almost a month long and the baby is perfectly fine."

Happy tears streamed down your face while your hands moved to your stomach. San kissed your head before pulling away a little. "I know I've been getting on your nerves a lot, but thank you for blessing me with Minhee and now another baby," he mumbled. "I love you so much, my beautiful wife." He crashed his lips onto yours. You kissed him back, smiling into the kiss.

"Eww!" your daughter squealed in disgust. "I'm going to tell uncle Jongho that you're kissing!"

San pulled away with a giggle before lifting his daughter into his arms, placing kisses all over her face while she squirmed around, laughing loudly.

You lovingly watched the two of them with a large smile on your face, and you couldn't wait for the future when your new baby would arrive, adding more happiness to your and your family's lives.

[alucardownsmyass]

Discussion #1

SPOILERS BELOW ‼️

"I still see the same spirited young woman I met fifty years ago, Your Majesty. In fact, to my eyes, time has made you even more beautiful, Your Highness."

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so fucking precious. they were the only two people within that room during this moment and no one else mattered. i loved their bond in this scene, and the way he sighs calmly when her fingers wrap around his face — almost as if he was saying "finally." he's such a charmer with his words, and so incredibly sweet for still finding the beauty in olden flesh, reassuring elizabeth that she had absolutely nothing to worry about regarding her appearance.

same thing could be said about the moment he returns thirty years later, telling integra that he saw nothing wrong with her when her hair was fading gray and her skin crinkling. he most likely felt passionate about her even greater, especially after witnessing her eyepatch, adoring her ability to withstand a life-changing blemish all the while he was absent. ( i always admired how integra took that bullet from major like it was NOTHING. one of the baddest bitches in anime hands down. ) and the moment when he addresses walter, calling him and his new vampiric body ugly and telling him that he looked much better before he committed his betrayal.

this made me create a headcanon that alu always finds the beauty inside of his significant other's insecurities, no matter they be wrinkles, stretch marks, cellulite, acne, love handles, scars, etc. basically all things that society's standards deem hideous as if they aren't natural or humanly. alucard appreciates humanity and its attributes to an extent, so i don't see him being bothered whatsoever over someone else's physical self-doubts or self-hatreds. i imagine him instead taking the time to remove his glove just to gently trace over and feel his partner's stretch marks and/or scars, telling them, "You worry so much over how you look, but to me, my dear, these are the very features that make you who you are, and you dare be ashamed of it," referring to their individuality and uniqueness. this is quite similiar to what he tells the Queen, right? because that is the kind of person he is deep down. he's so respectful and mature when it comes to matters concerning those he cares about.

this is personally why he's my main comfort character as well, because i have my own insecurities ( we all do ) and the fact that he finds beauty in something that many do not, i feel so much better about not only myself, but loving this man in general lmao. he definitely has his own insecurities, being that he views himself as nothing more than a monster, not only because almost all of the enemies he encounters are literally throwing that into his face 24/7, but that he regrets his past decision on becoming one. this also leads me into creating another headcanon where he adores receiving assurance from his partner. telling him occasionally here and there that he's handsome or beautiful in their eyes, though he may refuse to believe it more often than not, would let him know that not everyone cowers in fear at his mere presence and finds him to be this disgusting, rancid beast. he would feel accepted. welcomed, for once.

and that's another thing; he's just such an appreciative character. for example, in ova 10 when he feels himself disappearing after absorbing schrödinger, he begins to reminisce his previous death as he looks on and admires the sun — the sun is a symbolic piece in this entire series to me, because it represents what he turned his back on during his time as a human, officially declaring him a creature of the night. you would think that he ( a vampire ) no longer cares for the sun, and he even claimed to hate it and its light, but towards his final words, he states, "And each time I think . . . how lovely that sunlight, which I forsook so many centuries ago . . ."  which affirms that he still finds beauty in the earth's nature and in life itself despite what he is and what he's been through. that is another example of his humanity prying through his well-believed "monstrosity."

hirano did an absolutely amazing job in fabricating his ambiguity and behaviors. this version of dracula is unlike most of any version's psychology and morals. i could go on and on all day conversing the depths of alu's mindset and his view on humans in particular, but i'll save them for more future discussions!

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[ also. i understand that him and the queen have simply a close friendship and that he praises anyone's growth into old age regardless, but i also love to think that he was lowkey flirting with her here LMAO. like his expression in the picture below. i would internally melt if he looked at me like this, oh my lord. there is something about the look in his eyes that is so titillating. ]

[6knotty6thotty6]

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck: 

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion. 

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered,  was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it. 

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it." 

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got. 

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it. 

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat. 

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes. 

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not. 

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled. 

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway. 

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you? 

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!